


resigned (to our fate)

by cupcakeb



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe in which Rebeka and Valerio are somehow both adults with jobs, Bad Matchmaking, Basically all the best rom com vibes, F/M, Matchmaking, Or More Like, and Rebeka is even sort of good at hers?, because it’s loosely based on the movie Set It Up, but they're trying their best ok!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28532199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcakeb/pseuds/cupcakeb
Summary: “Maybe I should set Carla up with someone. Maybe that’d make her re-evaluate her life choices.”“Or you could just quit and find a more chill job.”Rebeka loves working for Carla, but she can be intense. With the help of a new office friend with an equally demanding boss, she comes up with a plan.
Relationships: Carla Rosón Caleruega/Samuel García Domínguez, Rebeca "Rebe" de Bormujo Ávalos/Valerio Montesinos Hendrich
Comments: 35
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's a little embarrassing how excited I am to finally be sharing the first chapter of this story! A million thanks go out to [IWhiteCrossI](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWhiteCrossI) who forced me to watch the movie Set it Up in October, which this AU is very loosely based on, and then hyped me up as I contemplated writing this for about six weeks.
> 
> Really hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it — it's gonna be a fun ride!

A loud slam of a door somewhere within the premises of the glass-walled office snaps Rebeka out of her exercise in staring at her screen and praying her neurotic boss will decide to head home soon.  
  
It’s still surreal to her, to actually be working for Carla Rosón, wine heiress turned magazine founder. Like Vogue but for wine; that’s how Carla pitches it to people when she’s asked. The obnoxious French name — ivré — is on the nose, but obviously just calling it _drunk_ wouldn’t have had the same fancy ring to it. It’s short and snappy and just exotic enough for people to take note of it.  
  
Rebe fucking loves her boss. Carla is ambitious as fuck, first of all, which she can relate to. And even though she’s obviously made it big — not in the least because of the generous amount of money available to her from selling the family wineries in a very successful merger — Carla isn’t an entitled asshole about it. She knows what she needs to do and when she needs to be doing it to get shit done and keep up her streak of success.  
  
As her executive assistant, Rebe makes sure Carla has all the tools to get said shit done. It’s not always a glamorous job; there are early mornings and late nights and coffee runs, but she isn’t just a fucking slave that does tedious admin shit for her boss. She helps her strategize, sometimes influences what does and doesn’t make the cut for the magazine, and obviously being in charge of an important person’s schedule comes with certain privileges. Business trips to fancy vineyards in the south of France or California are a pretty nice perk.  
  
Most of all, though, Carla is levelheaded. She rarely ever raises her voice or treats her like a lowly assistant, and the few times she’s been genuinely pissed with her, it was probably deserved.  
  
That’s why she can’t even fault her for all the late nights. Right now it’s nearing 10 pm, and while Rebeka knows there’s a very real deadline to meet before the new issue is presented to the board tomorrow, she sort of loathes Carla for being this much of a perfectionist in this very moment. Surely her editor-in-chief will have made sure all the pieces that made it into the final draft are up to par.  
  
Anyway. The door slams and Rebeka almost falls off the chair she was tipping back in as she hastily sits up straight. _Shit_. She really needs to stop being so careless. It’s fucking late, though, and this is her fourth fourteen-hour day this week; a depressing statistic to ponder, considering it’s Thursday. This is what board meeting weeks are always like. In her thirteen months of working for Carla, she’s learned that much.  
  
“I need more coffee.” Carla’s voice comes out sounding fairly normal, but when Rebeka looks up at her she instantly notices the telltale signs of stress. Her blonde hair is up in a messy bun and she’s down to just a tank top, her blazer tied haphazardly around her waist like she’s a preschooler who’s tired of wearing their little cardigan. Smiling just a little, Rebe raises her brow at her in question. “Don’t give me that look. Starbucks closes in fifteen minutes, I’m gonna need a lot of espresso to get through the rest of this tonight.”  
  
She’ll take that as her cue to head out. Rebe jumps to her feet, then grabs her purse and phone and rushes past Carla. “And something sweet,” she hears her add in a haste. “Something sweet enough to make me forget I didn’t have time for dinner.”  
  
Lecturing her about the health risks of drinking this much caffeine late at night is futile; she’s tried before. If Carla wants to get a terrible night of sleep, there’s nothing she can do about it. She runs down the five flights of stairs to the lobby in an attempt to maybe wake up a little, then jogs over to the Starbucks located in the building next door. They’re supposed to close in a few minutes — the fact that even Carla knew that is indicative of just how often she makes Rebe go on late-night coffee runs — so she better hurry the fuck up.  
  
The kid with the large glasses manning the register knows her, and even though they’ve never really spoken, she appreciates the apprehensive look he gives her. Yeah, she feels bad for herself too. “Regular latte, triple shot of espresso, right?”   
  
She nods, then glances over at the only other customer in the store waiting at the end of the bar. He looks familiar — dark, crazy curls frame his face, and he’s in green corduroys and a frilly white shirt, and even if she hasn’t seen him in this _particular_ eccentric outfit before, she’s seen him around for sure. Does he work in the neighborhood? He must.  
  
Of course Curls takes her critical once-over as an invitation to chat her up. Fucking men. “Three shots of espresso this late at night?”  
  
He’s sort of yelling across the empty coffeeshop and she instantly finds herself rolling her eyes. This is why she doesn’t date. Well, men being predictable and sleazy is one reason; the other is her work-life balance or rather the fucking lack thereof. He sounds giddy, which is honestly just weird. She’s pretty sure he can’t be sober.  
  
And yeah, she could tell him this is for her boss, but honestly? Who the fuck cares. He’s a stranger in a coffee shop. She doesn’t owe him an explanation. She nods, hands the barista some cash, and takes a step towards mystery dude. “Yup,” she smirks. “What about you, Curls?”

He grins again, then gestures at the drink the barista sits down in front of him. “No frills,” he says, walking over to the display of baked goods. “Just filter coffee, black.”

Shit, she forgot Carla wanted something to eat, too. The lone barista working the graveyard shift is busy making her drink, so she walks over and comes to stand next to Curls. When she sees there’s exactly one blueberry muffin left, she breathes a sigh of relief — those are Carla’s favorite.

Then she realizes the only other remaining baked good is fucking carrot cake, and glances at Curls next to her. He’s eyeing the muffin — _her_ muffin — and no way is she letting that happen.

Before she can say anything, he smirks at her and makes eye contact with the barista, now walking over to the register with her drink order. “Hey Diego, can I get this muffin, too? Didn’t have time for dinner.”

She doesn’t know what comes over her, but she reaches for his wrist and grabs it roughly. “No way, Mr. No Frills. I need that muffin.”

“Well, then you should’ve bought it before I did.”

He sidesteps her, hands the barista who he is apparently on a first-name basis with a five euro bill and smirks when he’s handed a paper bag that holds her only hope of ensuring Carla isn’t going to strangle her. Her boss can go hours without food as long as she indulges in sweet treats after.

Grabbing the latte that’s sat on the counter in front of her, she turns to face Curls again. “What do you want?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “To end world hunger and live a sustainable and blissed out life.”

God. “Very fucking funny. Look, you don’t know what’s at stake here. My boss has been holed up in her office for fourteen hours with minimal food. If I want any chance in hell at leaving the office before midnight, I need that muffin.”

He seems to consider that for a minute, then shrugs. “You could try that sketchy bodega around the corner, maybe they’ll have more muffins.”

“Or you could just let me have this one.”

“No can do,” he says, pinching her cheek in a super patronizing way. “My boss is going through a divorce. He needs comfort food.”

His boss? So that’s where she knows him from. He’s another overworked PA. Glaring at him, she asks, “Who’s your boss? Third floor?” 

There’s a law firm on the third floor, and the partners all seem like the sort of decadent assholes that’d make their assistants get them divorce comfort treats. More importantly, they seem like sleazy idiots who’d go through messy divorces in the first place.

Before he can answer, the barista witnessing their exchange clears his throat. “Sorry guys, we’re closing.”

Rebeka huffs. Her night was going bad enough before she ran into this self-important muffin thief.

“Okay Diego, at least let me have the stupid carrot cake.”

He smiles at her, then hands her the slice of cake he’s already neatly wrapped, and she feels an unreasonable amount of gratitude towards this random Starbucks employee.

“Have a good night,” she tells him when she grabs the cake off the counter, then glares over at Curls, who’s just grinning for no apparent reason. He goes to speak, but she interrupts him, just shakes her head and says, “I didn’t mean you.”

The sooner she can get this coffee to Carla, the quicker she’ll be able to head home.

***

When Rebeka closes the door to her apartment behind herself with a thud, she lets out an unreasonably pathetic sigh. Thank fucking god. It’s only eleven, so she’ll consider this a success. Six hours of overtime is nothing.

She drops her keys into the little glass bowl on the shoe shelf, then slips off her boots and falls back on the living room couch, closing her eyes when a bout of fatigue comes over her. There’s noise coming from the direction of her roommate’s bedroom and she groans. Can’t Ander go one night without being a fucking whore and bringing home another hookup?

He’s cool, obviously, and they’re friends, but she’d really appreciate if he got a grip on his sluttiness. Coming home to find naked strangers in her bathroom or kitchen isn’t exactly on her list of favorite things to do after a long ass day at the office.

Of course, Ander takes that as his cue to come walking out of his room, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. She sits up on the couch to make eye contact with him, then motions to his bedroom door and makes an obscene gesture with her hands. This is their shorthand for when he has people over and can’t talk about them just yet.

Ander nods, then walks over into the kitchen and comes back with a bottle of water. “You look like shit,” he tells her, eyes scanning her face. “Did the dictator make you work inhumane hours again?”

“She’s not a dictator,” she rolls her eyes. “If anything, she’s a general who staged a successful military coup.”

“That’s what all dictators say to stay legitimate. Doesn’t change the fact that you spend all your waking hours in that hellhole.”

Well, he’s got a point, but she’s not gonna admit that. She likes her job. Unfortunately, these sorts of hours come with the territory, or they will until she moves up the professional ranks.

“Don’t you have better things to do?” She motions to his room, where he’s got company waiting for him.

Ander grins. “You’re right. Time for round three.”

Ugh. She shoos him away, then drags herself over to her room and strips off her jeans before she finally lets herself fall into bed.

The moaning next door is loud, but she’s used to it at this point.

These little daily reminders of her own self-inflicted celibacy aren’t exactly making her feel better about it.

***

She’s gonna be late.  
  
When she finally reaches over to silence her alarm, she’s snoozed it twice, or so she thinks — judging by the bright numbers staring back at her on-screen, it may have been closer to four times.  
  
Any other day, that wouldn’t really be an issue. Sure, she likes to be at the office before Carla, so she’s usually in by 7:45 to have breakfast ready to go for her boss at 8:00, but being a couple of minutes late wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Today’s the board meeting though. The meeting itself starts at 9:30, but she knows Carla will want to run through her talking points and slides before.  
  
Rebeka considers her options. There are things in her morning routine that she can definitely skip, like coffee and breakfast. A fast shower is essential, though. She groans, then practically runs to the bathroom, ignoring the amused look on Ander’s face when he sees her running past in nothing but a towel.  
  
“My friend is in there,” he says, grinning.  
  
No fucking way. She will not let her manwhore of a roommate make her even later than she already is. “So get him out of there.”  
  
“How do you know it’s a him?” Ander asks, then shrugs nonchalantly when she glares at him. She obviously heard them last night, that’s how she knows. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were still home. Isn’t it super late?”  
  
She rolls her eyes. Yeah, it’s obviously very fucking late for her standards. Gesturing towards the bathroom door, she asks, “What’s his name? Make him leave.”  
  
“I don’t know his name.”  
  
“Typical,” she says, turning to rap her knuckles against the wooden door. “HEY! Hurry the fuck up.”  
  
There’s no time for niceties when her job is on the line.  
  
A startled looking, slightly wet ginger dude pops his head out the door a minute later, a towel wrapped around his waist. The guy looks apologetic, and again, if Ander wasn’t a notorious flirt, she might bother asking for his name and trying to be nice to him, but chances are she’ll never see this man again so she brushes past him and commences her ten-minute bathroom marathon session.  
  
By some miracle, her cab does not get stuck in downtown traffic today, so she’s at the office at 8:30, walking into the lobby as she twists her wet hair into a top knot. The elevator is closing, so she yells for whoever she saw step in to hold it for her, then makes a run for it.  
  
“Thanks,” she murmurs, slightly out of breath, except the word dies on her tongue when she realizes her newfound nemesis, Curls, is the guy holding his hand out to keep the door open. Rolling her eyes, she steps inside and comes to stand as far away from him as she possibly can. “Oh, it’s you.”   
  
A displeased frown makes its way onto her face, and honestly? He deserves that. He’s already pressed the button for the fourth floor — so he must work for that bougie sports news mag startup — and she feels his eyes on her as she presses the button for her floor.  
  
These elevators are notoriously slow, and for a second she considers dashing out and taking the stairs instead, but five flights of stairs before breakfast and coffee sound like a lot.  
  
The doors finally close, and Curls grins at her. “Wine, huh?”  
  
She’s not in the right frame of mind to small talk. She definitely isn’t gonna tell him more about herself.  
  
“Do you always come in this late? Is that why I never see you?”  
  
He laughs. “8:30 isn’t actually late for most of the human population.”  
  
Right. So his work ethic is shitty, and he dresses like someone who was probably voted ‘most likely to die a premature drug-related death’ in their high school yearbook… Chances are his boss is some older, attractive woman who keeps him around because he makes for good eye candy.  
  
(What? She may be going through a self-inflicted dry spell, but she can acknowledge he’s objectively very pretty.)  
  
She’s about to comment on it when the elevator comes to a halt on his floor. He nods at her as he goes to leave. To her great surprise, there’s a slightly shorter brown-haired guy in a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans waiting for him at the elevator, handing him a cup of coffee as he leads him around the corner. She hears Curls say, “Morning, boss man,” and then the doors close again, taking her up one final floor.  
  
She doesn’t have time to analyze this random guy’s relationship with his boss and the bizarre dynamic of why said boss is bringing _him_ coffee, and quite frankly she doesn’t give a shit anyway. If anything, she needs to come up with a plausible excuse for being late. Facing the wrath of a sleep-deprived, on edge Carla is a little daunting.  
  
But Carla doesn’t notice, in the end. Rebeka walks into her corner office and hands her a cup of coffee and the printed slide deck for the meeting they’re about to go into, and she doesn’t seem to give a shit about the slight change in schedule. She’s in this white pantsuit Rebe picked up from the dry cleaners a few days ago, and she looks fucking menacing, in the hottest way.  
  
It would be great if, on top of being a hard worker and a wine connoisseur with a natural talent for making it in the cutthroat world of specialized journalism, her boss was ugly. Like, that would be fair, in terms of making sure to leave some blessings from the fucking lord for the rest of the world. But no, the blonde is unfairly gorgeous on top of everything else because life isn’t fair.  
  
Anyway. Rebeka tells her she looks, “Fucking hot enough to show these old white men who’s really in charge,” and Carla flashes her a reluctant, amused smile, so today will obviously go fine for them.  
  
The meeting goes over without a hitch and Rebeka’s job here is really just to look busy, so she pretends to be super into this empty word doc on her screen, typing completely random word smashes on her laptop keyboard. She just needs to look intimidated yet on top of things — Carla explained that to her before the first-ever board meeting she attended with her. “None of them will care whether you’re actually taking notes, but they’ll take me more seriously if I have an assistant that looks capable,” she had said, and it had definitely worked, so. Rebe is inclined to agree that the all-male board of shareholders apparently is only willing to take a woman of Carla’s caliber seriously if she is seen to be ordering around _another_ woman. Fucking bizarre.  
  
This is her favorite part, honestly — leaning back and watching Carla fucking slay.  
  
She’s not a fan of letting others sing her praises, she’s learned that about Carla too. She respects her for it, but honestly, her attitude of going straight back to work after the meeting wraps up without even letting herself step out to enjoy the nice April weather for a celebratory coffee? That’s fucking bullshit, and Rebeka tells her as much.  
  
“I have a preliminary call with a big name in wine in Italy in twenty minutes — he said he wants to go on the record about shady practices in vinification.”  
  
Rebe laughs, then rolls her eyes when Carla stretches her shoulders back all tense as she stares at her computer screen stubbornly.  
  
“You need to get laid.” The words slip out before she can stop them, and thankfully Carla is in a good mood today, turning back to laugh at her a little.  
  
“Can you schedule that for me too? Must be at least 5’8 so I won’t be taller than him in heels, brunette, maybe have a bit of a boyish charm?”  
  
That’d be a new one for her job description — executive assistant and matchmaker extraordinaire. It’s amusing to think about, but obviously absolutely off the table, so she shakes her head and says, “I’ll go get you lunch.”  
  
Today’s apparently her lucky day because the elevator stops on the fourth floor on their way down and a familiar face framed by messy dark curls steps in. She’s in a significantly better mood now that the meeting is over, so she figures she’ll tease him a little. Maybe they got off on the wrong foot yesterday; she wouldn’t mind having a work friend in the building.  
  
“Are you stalking me?”  
  
“Depends. Are you also going to that Italian place around the corner to get your boss lunch?”   
  
Rebeka nods, slightly alarmed at the fact that he knows Carla likes to eat Italian food on Fridays. Is he _actually_ stalking her?!  
  
He grins, then nudges her shoulder with his. “Then yes, I am definitely stalking you.”  
  
They make chitchat on their way to the restaurant, and he seems cool. He also seems slightly erratic, possibly high and unpredictable which are not the sort of qualities she’d expect anyone in her line of work to possess.  
  
“Not to be rude, but you don’t really strike me as organized enough to be anyone’s assistant.”  
  
Instead of taking offense, he throws his head back to laugh. See? Definitely erratic. “I’m fucking terrible at my job,” he says, holding the door to the restaurant open. She hates this gentlemanly shit so she rolls her eyes as she walks past him. “Samu definitely pity hired me. He likes taking care of people.”  
  
That sounds like weird criteria to hire against, but she’s too hungry to bug him further for now. They pick up their respective orders, and she eyes his bag of takeout suspiciously on their way out.  
  
“What’s his order?”  
  
They might as well talk shop. She doesn’t know anything about Curls’ (maybe she should ask for his name…) boss, but she’s kind of curious. If he likes taking care of people, a basket case like Carla who loathes having people doting on her would be an amusing match for him.  
  
“The Sicilian pesto linguine, of course.”  
  
That’s weird. “That’s what Carla gets, too,” she says, now more convinced than ever that this must all be some sort of setup. He’s definitely stalking her, right? The Sicilian pesto isn’t even on the menu; she has to call ahead to make sure they have it every time because they don’t ordinarily serve it.  
  
“Maybe they should meet,” he grins as he holds the glass door to their building lobby open for her.  
  
“Are you hitting on my boss on behalf of your boss?” He nods slyly. “Maybe you’re a better assistant than you give yourself credit for.”  
  
Omar, the guy from building maintenance she sometimes takes smoke breaks with is covering the front desk today and gives her a pointed look when he sees her walk in with Curls. She heads straight for the elevator, not sparing Omar another glance. She hasn’t had a chance to talk to a hot guy for this long in months, especially in a non-work-related function. And sure, this is kind of work-related, but she’s still not gonna let Omar ruin this shit for her by being obvious.  
  
They’re in the elevator, waiting for the fucking doors to close already when she reaches for her phone and AirDrops her contact info to the only iPhone she can find nearby — she doesn’t know if his name is Valerio, but she kind of hopes so. His phone makes a sound and she turns to grin at him when he holds it up for her to see. “For the next coffee run. Maybe we can coordinate.”  
  
The doors open on his floor, and he waves his phone around for emphasis. “I’ll think about it.”  
  
That probably could’ve gone down worse.  
  
***

“You can go home.”

Carla is hunched over her iPad, and Rebeka normally wouldn’t dare leave before her boss, but today’s Friday and she was sort of hoping she’d actually spend some time with friends after work. (Okay, fine, she means her roommate. She lost touch with all of her other friends when she took this job and randomly disappeared on them.)

It’s already after six, and Carla hasn’t shown any signs of wanting to leave herself yet.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?”

Carla scoffs sarcastically. “A month-long vacation on a deserted island with no internet access and several hot, preferably scantily clad males would be wonderful, thanks.”

“So you’re saying you wanna go on that reality show where you date hot naked dudes on the beach basically?”

The blonde wheels back in her chair, then turns around to glare at Rebe fondly. Sometimes she wonders if they’d be friends if she didn’t work for her, but then she usually remembers that Carla literally doesn’t have time for friends. (Not that she has time for hers much either.)

“Go home. I’ll see you Monday.”

She grabs her things and gets out before Carla can change her mind — leaving the office (almost) on time on a Friday is mostly unheard of; she’ll take what she can get.

Ander is waiting for her at home, and even though she texted saying she was on her way, he still acts shocked to see her walk in at this time of day. He hands her a bottle of beer as he mockingly fawns over her, gasping at her unexpected arrival.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” she takes a swig of beer. God, she hasn’t gotten drunk in a while. “Let’s order some fucking pizza.”

Later they’re both slightly tipsy, though she’s definitely faring worse than him, probably because she rarely ever has time to drink anymore. The extra-large pepperoni pizza they ordered is long destroyed, and she’s got her head in his lap as he plays with her hair.

“Maybe I should set Carla up with someone. Maybe that’d make her re-evaluate her life choices.”

“Or you could just quit and find a more chill job.”

She reaches back blindly to slap his cheek, giggling when she apparently hits his chin instead. Quitting isn’t an option. She’s got places to go; her career is on track to take off, and she isn’t gonna let a little bit of overtime stop her from making it big. She’s 26, she can handle this amount of work for now.  
  
She zones out a little, picking at the label on her beer bottle, distracted. It definitely sucks that she has this little free time; she used to have friends other than the person she lives with before she started regularly working sixty-hour weeks. If only there was a way to improve Carla’s work-life balance, in order to help with her own.  
  
Ander moves his hand to her shoulder and squeezes the skin there to get her attention. “Ow!”  
  
“Bitch, I was talking to you!” He breathes a laugh through his nose. “Did you not hear what I just said?”  
  
“Was it about me?” He nods, so she leans her head back against his chest to look up at him. “Then I’m assuming it was vaguely insulting and unfortunately also very fucking true.”  
  
Ander chuckles. “I said you need to get back out there. You haven’t hooked up with anyone in months, and I never hear your vibrator anymore, so…”  
  
Ugh. He’s got a point, so she sort of appreciates the teasing. Maybe it’ll help her actually get out of this rut.  
  
“I ran into this hot guy at work,” she muses, sitting up and turning around to stare at Ander. “Like, super fucking hot but also fucking weird.”  
  
“The hottest men are always fucking crazy,” he suggests. She gives him a dubious look. “What? I don’t make the rules! This is all based on my very large scientific data set! Correlation totally equals causation.”  
  
Rebeka shrugs. “Whatever. I can’t date anyone while Carla is on this crazy trip to find new advertisers. She’s probably still at the office now, reading through emails she missed this week.”  
  
Her phone goes off, and it’s a text from a number she doesn’t know, so she’s kind of creeped out and intrigued.  
  
_at party with the boss. come join?_  
  
She has a feeling she knows who it’s from, but she’s also definitely not gonna go out and party tonight; her couch is comfy and she’s had a few beers. Her bed is in the next room over — why the fuck would she leave the house now? She can’t fucking wait to just pass out later.  
  
Grinning at her phone, she types out _who is this_ and hits send.  
  
He instantly replies _the muffin man_ and she snorts out a laugh. He’s a fucking idiot, apparently. (Which is definitely her type.)  
  
“Who are you texting?”  
  
Rebeka rolls her eyes. “Hot crazy work guy.”  
  
Across from her, Ander whistles. “You gave him your number? When’s the wedding?”

Ugh. “Don’t you have guys to fuck? Girls? Anyone? Please, anything to make you stay out of my sex life.”  
  
He chugs the rest of his beer, then sets it down on the floor and grins at her. “You don’t have a sex life.”  
  
If she hits him a little too hard in response, Rebeka doesn’t think she can be held accountable. He was asking for it.  
  
***  
  
She thinks about it all weekend.  
  
Not her office crush, obviously; she’s not one of those stupid girls that fawn over guys and end up spending all their time staring at the guy’s contact info in their phone, manifesting a text from him.  
  
Matchmaking, though? She kind of thinks it could work. If anything’s gonna distract Carla from being her workaholic self, it’s a new boy toy to string along. Her boss must be sexually frustrated too, right? This would kill two birds with one stone.  
  
On Sunday morning, she texts Valerio asking for a photo of his boss, and he sends her a link to the guy’s Instagram, which is even better. Ideal for stalking and figuring out this plan.

This is what she learns through a quick Google search: Samuel Garcia is 31, and started a random football blog in his twenties that took off and turned into a full online sports magazine. There’s no print issue — she’s sure Carla would remark on that being tacky — but they’ve gone from a small football blog to a genuine presence in the sports world, interviewing players and branching out to other sports. There’s a few interviews with Samuel about the key to his success, and after watching just a short clip she knows he’s a somewhat charming, fumbling idiot who keeps just awkwardly saying he got really lucky, so. No real commercial acumen.

But he seems genuine and nice, and his smile is really cute. Definitely not Rebeka’s type at all, honestly, considering he seems a tad uncomfortable in his skin and he wears completely age-inappropriate skater boy clothes. Carla might like him, though — she did say she’s into boyish men. Maybe it’s a dom/sub thing for her; Rebeka isn’t gonna judge. (Carla’s definitely a dom, though.)

He seems like the perfect fit for Carla because she could be dominant and intimidating and intense around him and chances are he’ll just brush it off and make sure she keeps actual food in her fridge.

So she’s got a guy to set her boss up with, but there’s no way she’ll manage to do this on her own. Curls (she’s going back and forth on whether she wants to actually use his real name ‘cause Curls is, like, the objectively better name...) will definitely need to help her with this if she wants any chance at pulling off this matchmaking operation.

If her job has taught her anything, it’s that you have to call people to get shit done. Texting and emails will only get you so far. Without giving herself time to overthink, she dials Valerio’s number.

He picks up on the second ring, and she doesn’t give him a chance to make chit chat before she gets straight to the point.

“How messy is his divorce, exactly?”

“Hello to you too, office stranger.”

“Is the divorce finalized?”

What? She just wants to make sure she isn’t setting Carla up with a basket case.

Valerio giggles on the other end of the line, and she finds herself liking the sound of it. “Is that all I’m good for? Setting you up with my boss?”

Ew. That’s definitely not what she’s angling for here, and if he thinks it is, she’s offended. She really hopes she doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who’d actually be into Samuel’s scruffy, awkward look.

“This isn’t for me,” she hints, then makes a decision. “What are you doing right now?”

“Watching Netflix on my couch.”

“Text me your address, I’ve got an idea.”

He jokes about giving his address to strangers and she tells him to shut the fuck up.

It’s definitely the start of a beautiful friendship.

***

They end up on his balcony, which has a ridiculously nice view of this huge park. The apartment is big and central, and she doubts he can afford it on a shitty PA salary at a sports startup. It figures that eccentric, crazy dude is loaded in the generational sense of the word.

“You know, I don’t usually take women to my apartment on our first date.”

She’s just gonna ignore the blatant attempt at flirting; this is not a date and she’s not in the mood. This is a business meeting.

“Well, don’t murder and rape me just yet. This couldn’t wait. I kinda came up with a plan.”

He’s not as clueless as he seems, because he grins at her and says, “You want to set them up, don’t you?”

She nods. “Do you know who I work for?”

“Scary-hot blonde wine lady?”

Well, that’s one way to put it. He reaches over to tug on her wrist as he says it, and she rolls her eyes when he starts playing with the ring on her finger. No, she’s not engaged; but the questioning glances from men like him are amusing enough for her to keep wearing her dad’s old ring that she had re-sized on the fourth finger of her left hand.

“Exactly. She’s cute, right?”

“I’m not really into blondes.”

He uses the opportunity to practically leer at her, and god, she really is rusty. This hot guy is obviously hitting on her — why can’t she think of anything to say in response?

Maybe she should focus on the task at hand. She pulls out her iPad and opens the excel sheet she created. She turns to him, her knees bumping his, and balances her iPad on his lap.

“Lock them in an elevator,” he reads out, laughing. Rebeka glares at him — that’s not a bad idea. “You want to kidnap them and trap them in an enclosed space together?”

She grabs the iPad back abruptly and rolls her eyes. “Fucking obviously, yeah,” she tells him, ignoring the way his fingers have moved to rest on her thigh. “How else do you suggest we get two complete strangers who have nothing in common other than the building they work in to talk?”

Valerio plays with the rip in her jeans, then turns to grin at her triumphantly. This better be a good idea. “We need to pull the fire alarm... late at night when no one else is still in the building.”

How is that idea any more practical than hers? Both plans rely on her getting Omar involved, but she’s pretty sure he’s a sucker for love, so she can probably convince him to fuck with the alarm system. And they’d need to make sure everyone else will already have exited the building, which... Well, they could pull this off with some luck.

“The elevator is easier.”

“Samu gets claustrophobic. He’d just cry, I’m pretty sure,” Valerio laughs, probably picturing it. “Not exactly a good first impression.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

They move to his living room couch, even though he tries to make excuses for why that’s a bad idea. She doesn’t care if the place is a mess — it’s getting a little chilly on the balcony.

The second they step back inside she hears a high-pitched scream, followed by the unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin. Then a male voice says something she doesn’t quite catch, and... Okay, maybe she gets why he wanted to stay outside now.

“Sorry, my roommate’s a nympho.”

Well, they have that in common, then. “You should see mine. And he’s fucking bi, too, which like, more power to him I guess but that just means there are twice as many people in Madrid for him to fuck.”

“Lucky him,” Valerio grins, then taps his nails on her iPad. “So why should I go along with this plan?”

That seems kind of obvious, but if he needs her to spell it out for him, she will.

“Because if they date, we’ll actually have time to live our lives again.”

He shrugs. “I work pretty normal hours. I’m usually home by six.”

Does he have to throw that in her face? So she’s the only overworked assistant in the room — whatever, who cares. He seems like a softie — she’ll have to appeal to his obvious desire to see people happy instead.

“Don’t you want Samuel to be happy? Distract him from the divorce?”

When she looks over at Valerio, she’s pretty sure she said exactly what he needed to hear. He’s smiling, all doubt gone from his face, and she holds out her hand for him to shake.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he jokes, gripping her hand tightly. Fuck, she loves men with big hands and strong handshakes.

The female moans next door get louder and higher in pitch, and Rebeka figures she might as well head home. Listening to strangers fuck is creepy, especially because it’s kind of turning her on.

Gesturing to the source of the noise, she says, “Can you get me his number? He sounds like he knows what he’s doing,” and gets up to grab her bag before Valerio can turn this into a sleazy way to hit on her.

“He doesn’t know shit,” Valerio calls after her, and she flips him off before closing the front door behind her.

She takes a deep breath when she’s finally alone in the hallway of his building. He’s chaotic but has clearly got some decent ideas. This better fucking work out.


	2. Chapter 2

  
He’s had weirder conversations with the guy covering the front desk at the office, that’s for sure. It’s the first thing that comes to mind for Valerio as he spends his Monday morning watching Rebeka attempt to sweet talk Omar from maintenance.

“You want me to set off the fire alarm so two people will be forced to hang out?”

Rebeka considers this, then nods. “Basically. Look, there’s a lot at stake.”

Valerio stifles a giggle. The only reason he agreed to go along with this is that he kind of likes hanging out with the brunette — she seems cool. That, and Samu really could use a new girlfriend. The divorce has been tough on him, and when he gets stressed he tends to get a little mean, so anything to help him get back in the game is probably a good idea.  
  
It’s probably a good idea to actively help his boss find happiness.

Omar grins, then looks between the two of them. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other. It makes me uncomfortable when you people don’t stick with others from your floor. Makes it hard to keep track.”   
  
That’s kinda funny, so he laughs. He does actually like Omar, from the few conversations he’s had to have with him at the front desk.

“Are you gonna help us or not?” Rebeka finally asks, glancing at her watch dismissively.

“Fucking with the fire alarm is illegal and definitely grounds to get me fired.”

Valerio decides this is probably his cue to chime in. “Come on, Omar, this is about true love. We just want to make two people very happy.”

Omar raises a brow in doubt. “She just said a minute ago they don’t even know each other.”

“Exactly. You’ll be right there to witness them falling in love, watching it unfold live on the maintenance room security feed,” Rebeka adds. “Ideally later today.”

Yeah, they’ve decided there’s no reason to waste any time. Samu has an article deadline tomorrow, and Rebeka said Carla doesn’t generally need a reason to stay in the office until seven, so it seemed like a good idea.

Clicking his tongue, Omar shakes his head at them both, then breaks into a grin. “Anything to help with matters of the heart...”

He doesn’t really think twice about high-fiving Rebeka, and she’s the one who throws her arms around him as they cheer.

She smells really nice. Knowing what he does about her, she’d probably slap him if he mentioned that to her.

***

Some say he’s a little bit of a walking contradiction. Valerio wouldn’t admit it, but he kind of likes that label.

At 29, he thinks he’s doing okay. His bar for that is low, thanks to spending most of his late teens and early twenties on a few too many drugs. He never went to rehab because there are natural ways to detox your body, and he does still very occasionally let himself enjoy a little bit of coke or molly at a party, but still. This is him acting tame and settled. 

He has a solid job, mainly because he sort of likes Samuel, and Samu apparently thought they vibed well enough to keep him around, and he owns half of the apartment he shares with promiscuous Polo, his teenage best friend turned roommate. Hell, he’s even kind of got a girlfriend — he’s got his shit together these days.

The girlfriend part’s a little bit more complicated. See, he’s too much of a free spirit to believe in labels. He doesn’t even see her often enough for it to be called a relationship, but Cayetana doesn’t seem like the type to have flings. If she doesn’t think of it as one, it can’t be. They met when Samu adopted a cute labradoodle and asked Valerio to take the pup to the vet. Yes, she’s a vet, and yes, he hit on her at a checkup appointment — she looked really pretty holding Rosa, who instantly took a liking to her. He liked how she looked so completely non-threatening, and he meant it when he told her he’d love to take her out for coffee and find out more about her.  
  
He didn’t learn much about her in the end, but she’s really nice and really pretty. More importantly, she’s easy company to keep. All that was two months ago, and now he sees her about once a week, vet appointments not included. (Rosa is spoiled; he makes sure of that.)

Maybe getting Samuel and Carla together really would be convenient for him, too. He rarely works long hours, mainly because Samu’s a big believer in the whole work-life balance shebang, but if those hours could be shortened further, he certainly wouldn’t be opposed. Anything to live a more balanced life.  
  
That, and Samu has been trying to befriend him lately. He’s tagged along to more parties and raves than Valerio can count since his wife left him, so honestly, it’d just be nice to get rid of him again. He likes the guy, but jeez — they work together. There’s no need to be best friends.  
  
Carla seems like a pretty good match for Samu, too. Well, she’s hot as fuck, so probably a little out of his league, but if they can gloss over that fact, they might be able to make this work.

He thinks about it during his Sunday night meditation, which obviously defeats the whole point of meditating, and wonders how this hot if mildly aggressive woman got in his head so easily.

***

No one’s more nervous than Rebeka to pull this whole fire alarm thing off. She spends all of Monday slightly on edge, helped only by the fact that they’ve got a plan to stick to, and she’s kind of great at that; she loves plans. Having really unreliable parents that always left it up to her to actually make things happen gave her a head start in life when it comes to using planning as a coping mechanism.

When the clock strikes six and Carla seems to be glancing at the door, Rebe panics. She’s not trying to leave on time for once, right? The alarm isn’t going off until 6:30, and it’d be a nightmare to call everything off now.

But thankfully Carla gets distracted by an email, which turns into a phone call, so they’re fine.

At 6:20, Rebeka figures it’s time for her subtle exit. “I’m gonna get a coffee, do you want anything?”

The blonde smiles at her. “Some water and fruit would be nice, thanks.”   
  
Phew. The rest of the office looks completely empty, so no one will be around to ruin their plan. She grabs her phone and makes her way towards the stairs, texting Valerio as she walks down to the fourth floor. He’s already waiting for her, and she grabs him by the forearm and pulls him along. They need to get down to the maintenance room so they can watch everything unfold from a safe distance on the CCTV feed.  
  
Having the entire building alarm go off would be stupid; they decided to stick to the fourth and fifth floor instead.  
  
Omar from maintenance is chain-smoking in the dingy little back room when they get there, and Rebeka laughs, then bums a cigarette. She’s not a smoker, per se, but she stress smokes a lot; she’s definitely stressed now. To her surprise, Valerio declines the lit cigarette she holds out to him and mumbles something about having quit recently.  
  
At 6:30 on the dot, she glances at Omar next to them and nods for him to go ahead. He pushes a button, then another one and they turn their eyes to the screens monitoring the fourth and fifth-floor lobby. For a whole minute, nothing happens — neither of their bosses walks out.  
  
“Do they have a fucking death wish?” Rebe asks, taking a drag of her cigarette and blowing out dramatic smoke constellations.  
  
“Samu is probably just wearing headphones,” Valerio says, and she sighs. Chances are Carla totally ignored the announcement, hoping it was a test alarm. She’s so fucking careless when she’s focused on work.  
  
Grabbing her phone, she types out a quick text to Carla, just says, _‘Fire alarm in the building, get out’_ and puts it away. Valerio is already on his phone, presumably doing the same.  
  
“They’d literally fucking burn to death without us,” Rebeka says, shooting him a look.  
  
A few seconds later they finally watch as Carla walks out into the hall in front of the elevator, and when she takes a left to go downstairs, Samuel appears on screen one floor below, a scruffy looking dog walking next to him on a leash. Fuck, they’ve totally pulled it off. The building layout is odd, so Carla will have to cross in front of the fourth-floor elevators to get to the next set of stairs. The timing is gonna work out perfectly.  
  
On camera, Samuel appears to be waiting for the elevator, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder as he stares straight ahead. Rebeka snorts out a laugh. “Does he know you shouldn’t be using the elevator in case of a fire?”  
  
Valerio glances at her and shrugs, and then they see Carla walking up to Samuel. Showtime. Valerio pinches the skin of her wrist in excitement and she grins at him. There’s no sound, so they can’t hear what’s being said, but Carla stops right next to him and taps him on the shoulder, then crosses her arms in front of her chest as she grins.  
  
Rebe chuckles. “Oh, she’s definitely telling him he’s a dumbass for trying to take the elevator. She loves calling people out.”  
  
Samuel turns to look at Carla on-screen, puts a hand on her arm and says something, and then they’re both walking over to the stairs. Carla gestures to his dog, and Samuel hands her the leash. That looked… friendly. Not a bad start.  
  
Rebeka can’t help it; she puts out her cigarette and squeals, then hugs Valerio.  
  
(Second hug of the day. Maybe Ander was right — they should just get married already.)  
  
“They don’t look very in love,” Omar chimes in from his chair in the corner. She rolls her eyes. “Didn’t look like love at first sight to me.”  
  
Valerio’s still got an arm slung around her shoulder, and he’s flashing Omar that lazy grin of his when he says, “Just you wait.”  
  
She’s a little too excited to wait.  
  
***  
  
Matchmaking is fucking amusing, actually. Valerio didn’t think he’d enjoy it, but the whole fire alarm stint was fun, and he’s now spent all morning watching Samu look more brooding than usual like he’s lost in thought.  
  
He and Rebeka have been texting each other updates all day — that’s nice, too. She’s pretty funny. Carla apparently hasn’t mentioned her chance encounter with Samu, but Valerio is wondering if she’s just playing it cool in front of her assistant.  
  
Lucky for them, Samu doesn’t know how to act cool in any given situation.  
  
When Valerio sets a cup of coffee down next to him around 11, he finally looks up from his phone and grins. “Do you remember the fire alarm yesterday?”  
  
See, the only thing that could totally ruin this for them is that Valerio is, objectively speaking, a terrible liar. He always has been. All he has to do now is smile and nod, and maybe not say anything to keep them in the game. If he has to talk, he’ll probably find a way to fuck up and give them away.  
  
He nods, then grins at Samu in the way he always does and breathes a sigh of relief when Samu looks off into the distance as he takes a sip of his coffee.  
  
“I think I met someone.”  
  
“You met someone during the fire alarm?”  
  
Fucking Oscar-worthy, if he does say so himself. Rebeka would be proud. He can’t wait to tell her later.  
  
Samu sort of sheepishly smiles at him, then props his chin up on his hand and shrugs. “I know it sounds dumb. Do you know the hot blonde from upstairs?”  
  
Okay, time to bring his acting A-game. “You mean the wine lady? Yeah.”  
  
Maybe he’s better at this than he thought.  
  
“She found me waiting for the elevator on her way down and lectured me about being stupid.”  
  
Here’s where the real acting comes in — thanks to Rebeka, Valerio now knows you shouldn’t take the elevator in case of a fire, but he obviously can’t mention that to Samu. It would be odd for him to point it out — he’s not usually smart about general life stuff. He’ll say something vague instead.  
  
“Sounds hot.”  
  
Samu laughs, but then he’s back to looking pensive. “It actually kinda was.”  
  
Rebeka talked to him about this. He knows what to do now, and he hopes he can suggest it in a way that makes it sound natural.  
  
“You should send her flowers. Maybe a card saying thank you for saving your life, even if there was no fire.”  
  
He’s pretty sure if he had a normal boss, Samu would just tell him that’s a good idea and order him to send flowers upstairs. But Samu kind of struggles with the whole being authoritative thing, unless he’s having a bad day. He smiles and tells him, “Would you mind taking care of that,” like it isn’t Valerio’s literal job to do things like this for him.  
  
Valerio is obviously more than happy to help. “I’ll take little Rosita out for a walk and grab some flowers.”  
  
“You’re the best.”  
  
Yeah, he thinks a minute later when he’s got Rosa on a leash and his phone in hand to text Rebeka about coming down so they can pick out flowers, he’s definitely the best.

***  
  
When Rebeka gets off the elevator in the lobby, Valerio is leaning on the desk at reception, flirting with whoever is playing receptionist today. There’s a dog next to him, a sort of ugly looking one if she’s being brutally honest, and she slaps him on the shoulder in greeting and smiles when he flinches.  
  
“Who’s this?” She asks, pointing to the dog while they’re walking to the flower shop. She knows it’s Samuel’s, obviously, because the dog was with him during their fire alarm shenanigans last night.  
  
Valerio hands the leash to her — not exactly why she asked — and says, “This is Rosa.”  
  
She’s a cat person. She stops to crouch down and pet Rosa, then hands the leash over to Valerio again. No offense to Rosa, but she just doesn’t really vibe with dogs.  
  
The florist seems to know Valerio, which is a curious turn of events. The woman shoots him a pretty smile when they walk in, then even comes over to greet Rosa, and Rebe has questions about that. She’ll ask him later.  
  
“How about daisies?”  
  
Rebeka snorts. “Very romantic. I thought you wanted to get something Carla might actually like.”  
  
“Red roses?”  
  
“Ew. No, definitely not, she’ll think he’s a fucking creep.”  
  
Valerio looks a little pissed at her shooting all of his ideas down, but it’s not her fault he’s got bad taste in flowers. They settle on a nice bouquet of peonies, then pick up a simple card and head to the front of the store to pay.  
  
“No orchids today?” the owner of the cute little flower shop asks, and Valerio smiles at her as he shakes his head. After he’s paid for the flowers, the woman holds out a pen to him and says, “I can tell you didn’t bring one by the look on your face.”  
  
Valerio laughs and takes the pen, then says, “I’ll drop it off after work,” and grabs their purchase off the counter.  
  
Once they’re outside again, they turn a corner and sit down at a local playground where Valerio lets the dog off its (her? Whatever) leash so it can roam freely.  
  
“Okay, what should I write?”  
  
Rebeka grins at him. “How about ‘Sup Carla, ur hot, wanna fuck sometime’?”  
  
“You’re hilarious,” he says, then hands her the card. “Fine, you do it.”  
  
“No way! She knows my handwriting.”  
  
“Then at least tell me what to say.”  
  
Of course she’s the brains behind the operation, but surely he can’t be this reliant on her input, right? She kind of feels like an elementary school teacher, trying to get one of her students to come to the right conclusion on their own, with minimal help or supervision.  
  
“Mention the alarm and maybe how she saved him from certain death in the elevator.”  
  
They workshop that idea for a few more minutes, and then finally settle on a message. Valerio ends up suggesting they should mention Samuel’s dog, which Rebe thinks is kind of genius, so maybe he’s not as clueless as she thought.  
  
_Thanks for saving Rosa and me from burning to death in the elevator, much appreciated. We owe you dinner._ is what Valerio ends up writing, and then he adds Samu’s number at the bottom and signs the card.  
  
Rebeka snorts. “He doesn’t even sign his own cards? Extra.”  
  
“He trusts me not to make him look bad.”  
  
“He fucking shouldn’t,” she jokes, and he sticks his tongue out at her before he calls the dog’s name and puts her back on her leash.  
  
They haven’t really talked about the next phase of the plan. The idea is basically that Carla and Samuel will somehow agree to go out for dinner together, and then they’ll only need minimal support from Rebe and Valerio to keep this thing going. Ideally no support at all, but Rebeka is being realistic — Carla will definitely need her to carve out time for dates in her schedule.  
  
Just before they walk back into the office lobby, she turns to him and grins. “Did you fuck the florist lady? She seemed into you.”  
  
Valerio shakes his head. “We go way back. Samu’s go-to gift is flowers.”  
  
Typical. Men are the least creative species on the fucking planet.  
  
They part ways in the elevator, and he grins at her as he salutes while backing away. She’s got the flowers and the card with her, which she’s obviously going to hand-deliver. God, it really is fucking convenient how they work in the same building.  
  
Carla is still exactly where Rebeka left her an hour ago, at her desk reading through the latest print issue of the magazine, probably looking for tiny errors that made it into the final print and making note of things to yell at people for later.  
  
She sets the vase of flowers down next to her with a thud, then hands Carla the card when the blonde looks up. “These were left for you downstairs.”  
  
Carla has been her usual calm, cool and collected self all morning, and if Rebe hadn’t learned to read her body language as a survival tactic, she would probably miss the intrigued little glint in Carla’s eyes as she takes the card from her and reads it.  
  
Fuck yeah. Success. Time to play the nosy assistant and feign interest.  
  
“Who is it from?”  
  
Carla scoffs as she reads the card again and shakes her head. “You know the sports mag guy from downstairs?” Rebe nods. “We ran into each other during the fire alarm yesterday.”  
  
“How do you run into someone during a fire alarm?”  
  
There’s a smile on Carla’s face, and she turns around in her chair to look at Rebe, so she’s clearly getting ready to have an actual conversation about this. Jackpot.  
  
“I found him waiting for the elevator. Can you imagine? During a fire… Fucking idiot.”  
  
Full disclosure: Rebeka has never seen what Carla acts like when she’s got a crush. She’s seen her flirt at business dinners to woo investors and advertisers alike, and she’s seen her make eyes at one or two of the very handsome vineyard owners they’ve visited together, but that’s it. There’s something different about her now, how she sounds slightly fond even as she insults Samuel’s intelligence, which makes Rebe think she might actually like him.  
  
“Sounds like a catch,” she tells her, then moves to sit down at her desk across from Carla. “Is he cute? You should go for him if he is.”  
  
Carla takes a moment to think about that, then bites her lip and regards the flowers again. “He definitely has good taste in flowers.”  
  
Ha. Rebe knew peonies were the right call. Maybe she should just date Carla herself since she knows her so well.  
  
“You should take him to that wine tasting event Thursday.”  
  
It’s not that Rebeka doesn’t want to go herself but— yeah, okay, who is she fucking kidding. She doesn’t really _get_ wine. She’s not a wine drinker, okay? She likes beer, and liquor, and sure, the occasional glass of wine is fine but there’s no way she’s ever gonna understand the sort of nuance in taste a 200 euro bottle of wine supposedly possesses compared to the local house wine her favorite Madrid bar sells at three euros a glass. It all just tastes like wine to her. She really wouldn’t mind skipping the tasting.  
  
“I don’t want to mix business and pleasure,” Carla says, then gets up and drops the card on Rebeka’s desk. “Call him and ask if he wants to do dinner on Friday. He can pick the restaurant, but tell him if the wine list is bad, I’m making him go somewhere else.”  
  
It’s harder than she thought it would be, to keep herself from grinning. “Will do.”  
  
She texts Valerio what Carla wants to do, suggests a couple of restaurants and tells him to bring them up but make Samuel think _he_ chose the one they go to, and that’s it.  
  
Her job here is done.  
  
Just like that, she’s got a Friday night off.  
  
***  
  
“You want to start dating,” Ander sounds skeptical when he says it. She really doesn’t appreciate the hint of amusement in his voice.  
  
“I’m gonna have a whole fucking Friday evening to myself, Ander, and probably even the weekend if things go well. This is my one chance to finally scratch that itch.”  
  
And boy, does it need scratching. Don’t ask — she doesn’t wanna talk about it.  
  
It’s a little after eleven, and they’re in their kitchen, both drinking beer, awkwardly standing around because Ander kind of has company in his room, except the chick fell asleep so he snuck out to hang out with her instead. He’s such a whore.  
  
“How am I supposed to help you with this?”  
  
“I just wanna know what app to download.”  
  
“Rebe, I love you, but you and I do not move in the same app circles.”  
  
“Well, how’d you find _her?_ ” She points towards his bedroom door.  
  
Ander licks his lips, then takes a sip of his beer and smirks. “Picked her up at the post office after work.”  
  
“You picked her up at the post office?” She pushes at his shoulder. “How do you pick people up at the post office?”  
  
He’s smug when he says, “By looking like me.”  
  
Great. Amazing. Very fucking helpful — she loves having such a supportive best friend.  
  
“But you do use that app, right? I forgot the name. Bumper?”  
  
“Grindr. Trust me, that app is not for you. Look, you’re a hot woman in your twenties, just download Hinge and call it a day.”  
  
With that, he leaves for his room, and she’s left standing there, contemplating her options. She’s never even heard of Hinge. Dating has never really been her style, and especially not when it involves random internet strangers. Dating is time-consuming and annoying and usually results in very mediocre one-night stands, if that.  
  
But she’s seen the error of her ways, or whatever, and honestly, even mediocre sex would probably rock her fucking world at this point. She’s a little hard up.  
  
She doesn’t put a ton of effort into her profile. She picks three somewhat recent pictures of herself, two of them with her hair down because Ander told her earlier tonight that makes her look — quote — _very fuckable_ (bitch) and one of her in this really cool leather jacket at a concert last year. Hinge apparently makes you answer prompts to tell these strangers a little bit about yourself, and she picks the easiest ones. Not very original, but she doesn’t think she sounds super lame or anything so… That’s a win.  
  
(Don’t judge her answers too harshly; she’s going for an aloof, chill vibe.  
  
**You’ll know I like you if**  
I actually make time to see you  
  
**Don’t hate me if**  
I don’t stay the night  
  
**You should not go out with me if**  
You don’t like to fight  
  
None of it is a lie, she’s just making herself sound a little cooler than she actually is.)  
  
She scrolls through a couple of profiles, and honestly, is she asking for too much here? All she wants is a guy who doesn’t look like a serial killer or a boy group member, someone who looks like she could at least engage in a brief conversation with them before they take off their clothes.  
  
An hour or so later, she’s absentmindedly scrolling through Reddit on her phone when she gets a Hinge notification about some guy who ‘commented on her answer’ and liked her. Shit, she didn’t realize people could comment on your answers.  
  
Before she reads his comment, she checks out his profile. He looks decent — strawberry blonde with really pretty blue eyes, and he’s tall enough for her to be seen around. She isn’t even _that_ tall, but she’s always hated when the guys she’s seen out in public with are barely taller than her.  
  
For some fucking reason, all of his pictures feature a horse of some sort. At first, she thinks it’s cute, like maybe he just wanted to show off his pretty chestnut Arabian, but the other pictures he uploaded are all either of him sitting on a horse, posing right next to a horse or there’s a horse in the background somewhere. It isn’t even all the _same_ horse — does he own _multiple_ horses? Is he a fucking farmer? Maybe a horse collector? Random as fuck.  
  
But horse guy is cute, and really, she’s not looking for true love. She wants to get laid. If that means she has to listen to him talk about equestrianism or fucking _horse care_ , that’s okay. She checks what he commented on, then kind of rolls her eyes when she sees he said ‘ _You’re gonna wanna see me_ ’ to her first prompt answer, and decides she’ll set any standards she normally has for men she dates aside for now.  
  
She replies to him, then agrees to meet him for dinner on Friday night and goes to bed.  
  
***  
  
Valerio kinda thought this whole matchmaking plot was supposed to result in him having _more_ downtime, not less. Ever since he told Samuel about his date on Friday — ever since he _lied_ to him and said Carla’s assistant called him, as if she’d even have his number — Samu has been low-key freaking out about it.  
  
It’s almost cute. Like, his boss is a fully grown man with a not-quite ex-wife, and yet here he is, making Valerio go shopping with him (yes, with, not _for_ ) to find a shirt Carla might like. Most of Samu’s shirts look the same, but Valerio wasn’t gonna tell him that.  
  
“I don’t think she’d be into my casual office look,” Samu says while looking at different dress shirts on display at this small boutique Rebeka recommended. That girl has a solution for fucking everything; it’s amazing.  
  
Valerio doesn’t really care about what Samu is gonna wear out on his date tomorrow. He definitely cares about the fact that it’s after six, and he’s out running what could be considered a work errand. He and Samu are friendly, but they aren’t exactly friends.  
  
“She’s already seen you at your worst,” Val jokes, then picks out a fairly neutral green button down for Samu. It’ll look nice with his hair and eyes. He’s a little bit of a fashionista, so he would know. “Try this on, it’ll look good, and then we can get out of here.”  
  
Samuel glances at the shirt, seemingly unsure, then grabs it in a second color as well and heads for the register. “I’ll just buy these two. If they don’t look good, you can return them.”  
  
Great. Creating even more work for himself; just what Valerio wanted to do here.  
  
***  
  
Of course he gets stuck watching Rosa for the weekend. He hadn't really thought that through. Honestly, it’s not a big deal, and Rosita loves him, so it might even be nice. It also means Samuel is expecting to have company over later tonight — why else would he pawn the dog off to him?! Good.  
  
That reaffirms his decision to invite Cayetana over to his place to watch a movie. He hasn’t seen her since they had dinner last week, and she really likes Rosa, which will be a nice buffer in case they run out of things to talk about. They don’t have a ton in common, but Caye is friendly and caring, and kind of cute — Valerio likes being around her because she makes him feel like a better person than he actually is.  
  
He’s definitely not gonna tell her about the matchmaking ploy he got mixed up in.  
  
Polo’s on the couch when he gets home from the office, shirtless as always, which either means he’s about to have company or he’s already got someone over. One of the two is pretty much always the case with Polo. Val loves the guy like a brother, but god, his bedroom really would benefit from not functioning as a revolving door for half of the population of Madrid sometimes.  
  
“Rosita,” Polo grins, jumping up to crouch down on the floor, and Rosa instantly runs over to lick his face. “See, Val? Girls love me.”  
  
“No need to tell me. I’ve heard all the reviews.”  
  
That’s kind of an inside joke they’ve got — Valerio obviously hears the girls (and occasional guys) Polo brings home scream and moan and keen out his name a lot, and for a while he kind of made a habit out of asking them to rate their experience, if he met them in the kitchen in the middle of the night. Most girls were weirded out by the question, but oddly game once they got over the weirdness, and the overall trend was fairly positive. Polo seems more than capable.  
  
“Plans for the weekend?” Polo asks, snapping his fingers as he instructs Rosa to chase her own tail. “Aside from watching this beauty, I’m assuming.”  
  
“Cayetana is coming over in a few,” Valerio tells him, then walks over to the kitchen to get himself a beer. It’s Friday; he’s allowed. “Might just watch a movie.”  
  
“Oh, can I join? I’m not meeting my date until 9.”  
  
He isn’t sure that’s the best idea. The few times he’s had Cayetana over at the apartment, she's always seemed a little uncomfortable with Polo’s (slutty) presence. But it’s not like he can say no; this is Polo’s living room too, after all, so he shrugs and tells him to go for it.  
  
That’s how he ends up sitting in between the two of them, Rosa asleep at his feet, as they watch some obscure French movie that’s weirdly dark and incredibly sexual. Caye is awkwardly leaning on him, clearly not a big fan of the movie, while Polo is playing with Valerio’s watch. Polo’s always super affectionate with him, but the contrast of his touch and Caye's hovering lean is amusing to him right now.  
  
Maybe he should date his best friend instead; they definitely have chemistry. (And a few drunken hookups under their belt. What can he say? High school was a shit show.)  
  
Polo leaves for his ‘date’, which is definitely just code for some sort of slutventure, and Cayetana smiles at him when he instantly turns the movie off.  
  
“Do you want a glass of wine? I have this nice Provence Rosé cooling in the fridge.”  
  
What can he say? He loves wine. Part of him hopes he can leverage his budding office friendship into scoring some free samples from Carla’s undoubtedly huge wine network.  
  
“Sure,” Caye says, then follows him to the kitchen when he gets up. He pours them both a generous glass, hands hers over, and grins when she takes a sip. “This is nice.”  
  
It is. Good wine is always nice. He won’t deny that he’s a little bored at the moment though. Deciding on his next move, he takes the wine from her hand again and sets both glasses down on the kitchen counter, then pulls her in for a kiss.  
  
“Let’s take advantage of having the apartment to ourselves,” he says, grinning when Caye nods and grabs his hand.  
  
At least the sex is still pretty decent.  
  
Valerio’s not a big fan of being high maintenance — this thing between them obviously isn’t love, but it’s entertaining enough for now.  
  
Mutually beneficial relationships are the best kind.  
  
***  
  
He has three missed calls from Rebeka when he finally wakes up on Saturday morning. Well, _finally_ is relative here, because it’s really only 11 am, and he tends to sleep in on weekends. Not his fault Rebeka is psychotic about her sleep schedule. (She mentioned she tracks it using an app when they had lunch on Thursday, and he definitely considered calling her crazy to her face — he didn’t, because he didn’t feel like getting punched, but it was a close call.)  
  
He reads her text as he’s rubbing sleep from his eyes, and really, _fine if you’re gonna be like this I’m coming over to tell u_ is the funniest thing he's ever read first thing in the morning. That was twenty minutes ago, so she’s probably on her way.  
  
Admittedly, he’s sort of forgotten Caye is around. When he looks over to the other side of the bed, she’s nowhere to be seen, so she’s probably gone and taken the dog out for a walk, which is really super nice of her. She’s one of the few people he knows who ended up in the right job.  
  
He steps into a pair of boxers, then finds his robe and loosely drapes it over his shoulders. You know, in case Rebeka gets here before he’s finished making coffee and getting dressed. He isn’t gonna rush just because a friend is coming over. Saturday mornings are sacred.  
  
There’s a knock on his door right as he’s finished fixing himself a cup of coffee, and he strides over and answers the door with a smile on his face. Cayetana probably took his keys, so it’s definitely Rebeka.  
  
She rounds the corner a minute later, kind of checks him out in his current state of undress, and he allows himself to grin at her smugly.  
  
“Jeez, am I interrupting your weekend orgy?”  
  
She walks past him without asking if she can come in, and he shrugs a little as he closes the door behind her.  
  
“Lazy weekend mornings are the best,” he replies, then takes her in. She’s in a nice dress, nice enough he’d expect her to wear it to fancy dinners, not his place for a matchmaking catchup on a Saturday, which means… Right, she’s totally come here on a walk of shame. “Oh shit, how was your date? I assume not too bad.”  
  
She mentioned she was meeting some dude on her first Friday off from taking care of Carla’s mental state — good for her if things actually worked out.  
  
Rebeka smirks. “Turns out he has a couple of things in common with the stallions he idolizes.”  
  
He can’t help but laugh at that. She’s fucking blunt. He likes her a lot.  
  
She asks about his Friday night and he briefly mentions he had someone over. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t mention that Cayetana is still kind of around, or why he doesn’t just refer to her as his girlfriend — probably because she isn’t, not really.  
  
“Want some coffee? You look like you had a long night.”  
  
The smug look on her face tells him caffeine is a good call.  
  
They’re on his couch drinking coffee when Caye comes back. She looks a little confused when she spots Rebeka on the couch with him, and he’s not sure why — surely he’s allowed to have friends over, right? Weird. He glances at the brunette, who looks slightly panicked, and then she nods in understanding.

He has no idea what she thinks she’s understanding here.  
  
Rebeka’s the one who speaks first. That’s something she’s good at, he’s noticed — taking charge of situations and conversations.  
  
“You must be the girlfriend,” she says, and Caye looks _really_ confused now. Interesting. That’s cool, maybe he won't even have to break up with her when he eventually gets bored with her. “Sorry, I’m on my way out, you know his roommate—,” she looks at him for help and he says Polo’s name. Caye knows Polo is a slut, so it probably doesn’t surprise her that his hookup doesn’t remember his name. “Right, Polo. We’re… You know.”  
  
That’s the most believable lie she could’ve come up with. He's kind of impressed. Polo is still passed out in his room, presumably on his own considering Valerio hasn’t spotted women’s clothing strewn all over the living room, and he hopes he stays in there so they don’t get busted.  
  
“Hi, nice to meet you,” Cayetana finally says, smiling as she picks up Rosa for a cuddle. “I was out for a walk with little Rosa here and picked up some croissants. Would you like one?”  
  
See? Caye is sweet. That’s why he keeps her around.  
  
Rebeka looks to him like she needs his permission, and when he subtly glances at her in agreement she nods and smiles at Caye. After breakfast, Caye gets a call from work — some vet emergency, because she’s on-call most weekends, pecks him on the lips and runs out the door.  
  
As soon as the door falls shut behind her, he and Rebeka just look at each other and start laughing.  
  
“Why the fuck did you do that? You could’ve just told her we work together.” He’s still laughing as he says it, and she shrugs, pulling up her legs. Her dress barely covers her like this, and he fights the urge to play with the frilly hem.  
  
“I don’t know, okay! I panicked, I thought maybe she’d think we’re, like,” she raises her eyebrows suggestively. “You know.”  
  
“What, you think just because I’m half-naked and on the couch with you people will assume we’re hooking up?”

Rebeka gives him a challenging look, her brow raised, and he finds himself moving closer without really meaning to. The things he’d do to her if she let him — fuck. He won't lie and say he hasn't thought about that.   
  
It’s like Polo fucking plans these things. He chooses that exact moment to walk out into the living room, only wearing a pair of very form-fitting briefs. When he notices Rebeka, he grins at Valerio.  
  
“Nice upgrade. Where’s vet girl?”  
  
“Doing vet stuff. How was your date?”  
  
Polo shrugs, and he already knows him being this nonchalant about it means he’ll be bragging any minute now.  
  
“Identical twins. Definitely identical in all the ways that matter most.”  
  
Next to him on the couch, Rebeka groans. “You really are a slut.”  
  
“Ah, so he’s mentioned me. Flattering.”  
  
Wait, didn’t she come here to talk to him about something? He's assuming it was related to Carla and Samuel's date last night. She probably isn't here to be accosted by his roommate.  
  
He turns to Rebeka and takes the empty coffee mug from her hand. “I’ll go get dressed and we can go for a walk, okay?”  
  
Rebeka smiles at him and he wonders why he likes that look on her face so much.  
  
***  
  
At least they left the fucking dog at his place. Rebeka’s tired, not hungover, because as a matter of principle she doesn’t drink on first dates — date rape is a very real phenomenon, and she likes being safe and responsible.  
  
Walking around in her outfit from last night isn’t ideal, but she didn’t feel like going home to change after escaping horse guy’s mansion — no really, he had a fucking estate with stables and all out back — this morning. Her entire body is sore in the best of ways. Horse guy’s fucking hung.  
  
But anyway. These news are too important to wait until Monday, so she figured she’d stop by to fill Valerio in. She’s nice like that.  
  
The second they’re out on the street, she hooks her arm through Valerio’s and grins up at him.  
  
“It fucking worked,” she says. “Carla texted me this morning asking if I can cancel all of her Monday meetings because she’s — quote — taking a personal day.”  
  
He doesn’t look convinced. “That could mean anything, though, right? Like maybe the condom broke and she needs the day to go get the morning-after pill.”  
  
Talk about an oddly specific example for something he thinks could mean _anything_. “Do I sense a touch of PTSD? Are you a dad now, Curls?”  
  
Valerio rolls his eyes, then pulls her along past a row of trees and towards the big meadow in the park.  
  
“Carla hasn’t taken a day off in all of the thirteen months I’ve worked for her.”  
  
“And you think…”  
  
She pushes at his shoulder until he awkwardly falls over and sits down in the grass, then lets him tug her forward and lands in a sitting position as well. He still looks clueless, and she’s gonna clue him in any second now, but it’s kind of amusing to watch him hang onto her every word.  
  
She feels like a bestselling novel with a really good chapter cliffhanger ending.  
  
“I _think_ you should pick up the fucking phone and call your boss, since he thinks you’re BFFs. Maybe he’ll tell you what went down.”  
  
Valerio sighs all dramatic, then gets out his phone and dials Samuel’s number. He holds it up to his ear and yeah, no, not gonna happen. Without checking with him first, she grabs the phone from his hand and puts it on speaker. He glares at her, and she punches his shoulder, and then he relents and holds the phone up in between them.  
  
Samu answers on the fifth ring. “Shit, sorry, I had to sneak out onto the balcony first,” he says, sounding flustered, and Rebeka grins at Val. Fuck yeah. “How are you?”  
  
Valerio pauses, and Rebe motions for him to speak. Fucking dumbass.  
  
“I— just… wanted to check in on how your date went, Romeo.”  
  
Pathetic. He is pathetic. God, there’s no way he isn’t gonna fuck this up for them eventually.  
  
Weirdly, though, Samuel thinks nothing of the little hiccup. Maybe he’s too smug about having gone home with a woman like Carla last night to notice.  
  
“It was great, actually.” Fucking right it was. Rebeka winks at Val. “Hey, speaking of, can you clear my schedule for Monday? We’re gonna do a little trip down to Toledo.”  
  
See? She was obviously right. Carla doesn’t just take days off for no reason.  
  
Valerio must be fucking deaf or something, because he looks at her, then asks, “You and Carla?”  
  
No, him and fucking Santa and his elves. She rolls her eyes so hard, she can feel the muscles in her face straining.  
  
“Yes,” Samuel draws out the word, sounding smug. “I’ll text you if I need anything. Have a good weekend.”  
  
Then the line goes dead, and Valerio giggles.  
  
“Holy shit, we actually did it,” he says and she pats his leg.   
  
Not the sharpest tool in the shed, is he? There was never a scenario in which they weren’t gonna pull this off. As a general rule, Rebeka doesn’t lose.  
  
“Of course we fucking did it, Curls,” she leans forward so she’s uncomfortably close to him. Or it would be uncomfortable if he wasn't objectively good looking and subjectively completely her type. “Time for phase two of the plan.”  
  
He grins, which makes up for the clueless shit he says next. “You have a plan?”  
  
Lord fucking help her.


	3. Chapter 3

After the complete luxury of having a Monday off — aside from picking up a few emails on her phone in bed, anyway — going back to the office on Tuesday is something Rebeka looks forward to.   
  
It may sound contradictory, but she likes keeping busy. She likes working on tight deadlines, on projects where there’s a lot at stake, and after a brief break, she’s energized and ready to go. She didn’t start this whole matchmaking venture to get out of her work duties; she’d just like to maybe leave the office before it’s time for dinner a few days a week.  
  
Carla walks into the office at 8:00 on the dot, her hair down and a small smile on her face, and Rebeka genuinely fails to comprehend how Carla somehow looks more gorgeous and glowing than usual.   
  
“Had a nice break?” Rebeka teases, and Carla rolls her eyes at her, but she’s also smiling a little, so that’s a yes.   
  
The blonde sits down at her desk, then takes a sip of the coffee Rebeka had ready for her and gives her a prompting look. “Catch me up on how things are going with the Napa valley story.”  
  
Okay. Time to put her business hat on. That’s cool. They can talk about matters of the heart later.   
  
It’s a perfectly normal, professional conversation, and yet Rebeka finds herself watching Carla closely as she tells her about her plans for this latest wine trend exposé for the next issue. Her boss looks happy. Not with how work is going, because Carla is never quite satisfied but her demeanor is different.   
  
Rebeka smiles to herself. It feels cool, knowing she’s indirectly responsible for all this.   
  
***

“What the fuck was urgent enough to summon me?”

Not that she minds being summoned by Valerio, especially around lunchtime. She needed a break, and Carla left the office at 1:00 and said she’ll be back in an hour, a turn of events so odd, it must have something to do with her new boy toy. Rebeka is struggling to believe she actually has time for a proper lunch break today.

What a crazy fucking concept.

Valerio’s sitting next to her at the Starbucks where they first met, on a loveseat out on the street-facing terrace, and he looks ridiculous as usual. Today’s shirt is black lace with embroidered flowers. If she didn’t know any better, she’d be compelled to think he plays for the other team.

None of that makes him any less attractive, and she fights the urge to lean into his touch when he casually throws an arm around her.

“You’re gonna wanna see this, I promise,” he says, then unlocks his phone and hands it to her. “We did this.”

Rebeka almost squeals a little. It's a picture of Carla and Samuel, their cheeks pressed together as they both grin at the camera.

“Did you hack his phone?”

Valerio shrugs. “Didn't have to. He’s not a good texter, he always asks me to reply to stuff for him. Family group chats, friends, work stuff... This wasn’t hard to find.”

That probably goes a little too far for her liking. She’s not sure she’d want to be all up in Carla’s business like that. Work emails and calls are fine but texts to her family? A bit much, maybe.

Still. Maybe she should try harder to get Carla to open up. She’d love to find out how her boss feels about this new budding romance without having to outright go through her phone.

“God, we’re fucking amazing,” she says, holding her hand up for a fist bump. It’s definitely a little lame, but she doesn’t care. Valerio just bumps it with his own, then covers her fist with his hand and waits for her to relax it so he can slip his fingers through hers. She’ll add platonic handholding to her ongoing list of concepts only Valerio subscribes to.  
  
They change the subject and spend almost an hour hanging out, and she likes that, too — how they’re actually kind of friends now.   
  
Matchmaking perks.

***  
  
“This morning Samu asked me if I’m still single.”   
  
It’s Thursday, and they’re sitting on a bench in the little park near the office, eating salad from a place Valerio recommended. Lunches have become their new regular hangout this week, mainly because Carla has decided to start making time to have lunch with Samuel now. Even on day three of her newfound journey to a more balanced lifestyle, Rebe kind of can’t believe she gets a full lunch break every day. It’s a whole new level of quality of life.  
  
Anyway. “The fuck is he asking you about that for? Does he wanna take you and your little girlfriend on a double date?”  
  
That jab was kind of unnecessary — from what she’s able to tell after their brief encounter at his apartment last Saturday, the timid looking blonde girl is nice. He didn’t offer up much (or any) information on her, but she’s pretty sure it’s not the most serious of relationships. Valerio doesn’t seem like the type.   
  
Next to her, he rolls his eyes good-naturedly and shrugs. He’s always so casual, she sort of wonders what he’d look like angry. Trying to find out sounds kind of tempting.   
  
“Hey, do you wanna come to a football match this weekend and spy on them?”   
  
As if she’d ever say no to free tickets to a game. Rebeka is kind of a football fan by birthright: her dad used to be in one of those Madrid fan clubs, and she’s got a few too many pictures of her toddler self at games to not associate the sport closely with random memories of childhood happiness.   
  
“Who’s playing?”   
  
“Does it matter? Not sure, I’m bad at remembering this stuff.”

He is a walking contradiction. What the actual fuck.

“Don’t you literally work for a guy who runs a fucking football website?”

Instead of nodding, Valerio flicks an edamame bean at her. Real mature. She has no fucking clue how he still has a job — Samu must be the most tolerant boss in the world.

“It’s probably Madrid, right? I think it’s at Estadio Santiago.”

“Wait. You have tickets to El Clásico? What the fuck, you should’ve led with that!”

Rebeka takes her football obsession seriously, so she’s been to a few clásicos over the years, but it never hurts to go again. This season is particularly close, so it’s bound to be a blood bath.

“I don’t know what that means, but yes, sure,” he reaches over and twists the ring on her finger. Weirdo. “You wanna go?”

Of course she wants to go. She would’ve gone to any game, honestly, but now she’s dying to go. Barça better be ready to fucking lose. She’s excited enough to go, she even forgets to make fun of him for not knowing what a clásico is.

“So this was Samuel’s idea?”

Valerio nods. “Apparently he’s taking Carla. He’s been talking about how he’ll make her grow to like football in no time.”

That is literally never going to happen, from what she knows about Carla, but it’s admirable of Samuel to try.

“That’s why he asked if you’re single. He wanted you to bring a plus one. Why’d you lie?”

Valerio shrugs again, then forks a huge piece of lettuce into his mouth and when he smiles at her with his mouth all full, she kind of thinks that answers her question.

He’s a fucking idiot.

(An idiot who lied to his boss to spend time with her, though. That makes it a tad better.)

***

The game is on Saturday, and Rebeka’s in her Ramos jersey, her hair braided down her back, when she meets Valerio at the nearest metro exit.

“Wow, you really are a football fan,” he says, tugging on her braid, and she rolls her eyes. “Cute.”

This is hardly the time to dwell on how much she liked the feeling of having him pull on her hair just now. She saw horse guy again last night so she isn’t even sexually frustrated. There’s no need to hit on her partner in matchmaking crime.

He still looks really fucking hot though. He’s in navy pants and a simple, tight white t-shirt, and it’s unfair how he’s been hiding that fucking six-pack underneath all the weird, frilly shirts and whatnot.

They’re walking towards the stadium, and she’s trying and failing to ignore Valerio’s hand on the small of her back, casually guiding her in the right direction. His touch is distracting.

“Does Samu know you’re taking me?”

Valerio shakes his head.

“He said I can take whoever, they won’t be sitting with us anyway.”

The only reason she’s asking is that she’s pretty sure her boss has no clue she sometimes hangs out with her new boyfriend’s assistant. It’s not exactly a conflict of interest, but Carla isn’t an idiot, so she might put two and two together if she sees them interact.

Turns out the seats Samu got them are really nice. Definitely the best seats she’s ever had for a Madrid game, and she’s been to about ten fucking million. What’s better, they’ve got a pretty good view of Carla and Samuel from up here, who are sat a couple of rows in front of them. It’s the perfect spot for doing a little bit of spy work.

The game has just kicked off when Valerio nudges her leg with his and leans in to yell in her ear. (It’s fucking loud in here — football fans are noisy.)

“How‘s horse guy?”

Maybe she should stop calling him that, but the nickname sort of stuck. She actually got to meet some of the horses yesterday before they moved on to less... ladylike activities. There was a decent amount of riding involved.

Grinning smugly, she says, “He’s fine,” if only because she wants to be watching the game, not talk about her random hookup.

“ _Fine_ … Fine isn’t good.”

Whatever. He’s hot and good in bed. That’s really all Rebe cares about. None of Valerio’s business anyway. She’s not sure why she feels the need to tease him right back.   
  
“How’s vet girl? You still haven’t told me her name, by the way.”   
  
Valerio is kind of weird about these things — he literally never tells her anything about his personal life, if you discount the anecdotes about his slutty roommate and best friend. For all she knows, he could have some tragic maffia past or be living a double life — both equally plausible from the utter lack of information she’s been able to find out about him.   
  
He tries to talk to her about her date some more, but she just pinches his arm hard enough to hurt when she sees Messi get past Ramos and head for the goal.   
  
“No, no, no, Ramos you dumb fuck,” she yells. “What the hell are we paying this guy for!”   
  
She’s almost annoyed enough to take her jersey off. Some people around them loudly shout their agreement, and Valerio is looking at her in bewilderment when she glances back over at him. So what? She won’t apologize for loving her team. Well, she loves them more when they aren’t losing to Barça, but still.   
  
He grins at her. “You’re fucking intense.”   
  
Of course she’s intense. He’s dumber than she thought if it took him this long to notice. In their direct line of vision, she sees Samuel angrily explaining something to Carla, who just looks amused. At least that means Samu isn’t a Barça fan — she would’ve had to call this whole thing off if he were. There’s no way she’d let her boss date a man with that little taste. Barça fans are psychopaths.  
  
“If you’re not gonna watch the game, you can go get us drinks,” she reaches into her pocket and hands him some cash. “Go make yourself useful.”   
  
After briefly fighting her on it, Valerio gets up to procure some much-needed beverages. She’d feel bad about ordering him around, but he clearly doesn’t give a shit about football and she needs to be around to yell at any player that stands in the way of Madrid pulling off a win today.   
  
She’s reasonably tipsy and really fucking pissed once halftime comes around. Barça is still leading Madrid 1 — 0 and she’s ready to fucking cut a bitch. Her boys need to get their act together. Fucking pathetic.   
  
“Shit,” Valerio mumbles, then turns to look at her. “Ok, Samu’s coming over. Act cool.”   
  
Chances are Samuel has no idea who she is. They’ve never met or interacted, but she’s still instantly wondering whether he’ll recognize her. It wouldn’t ruin anything, per se, but it might make any future matchmaking endeavors harder to pull off.   
  
When she looks in the direction of where Carla and Samuel were sitting just a second ago, the blonde is nowhere to be seen, so she’s probably gone upstairs to get a drink. Good. No need to make this any messier.   
  
“Val,” Samuel greets once he’s close enough to see them.   
  
That’s a new nickname. She kind of likes it; she might start using it. Valerio grins as he nods at Samu, who sits down next to him where a couple of seats have been vacated by people who ran off in need of halftime refreshments.   
  
“How are you liking the game?”  
  
Valerio shrugs, and Rebeka can’t help it — she starts laughing and puts a hand on his thigh, leaning forward just enough to make eye contact with Samuel.   
  
“What he meant to say is it’s fucking shit because the wrong team is winning. That foul should’ve been an immediate penalty. Fuckin’ yellow card my ass.”   
  
For a second, Rebeka thinks she fucked up by speaking up at all; maybe Samuel wouldn’t have noticed her otherwise. He looks past Valerio and straight at her, like he just realized she’s there. They’re probably fine. He’s grinning, sort of smug, sort of boyish, then looks between her and Valerio and nods at Val like he approves.   
  
“Keep her around, I like her… _spirit_.”   
  
That sounds like a backhanded compliment, but she’s used to having men imply she’s too opinionated. She comes on strong, so she gets this reaction a lot from people at first — especially those with a fragile male ego. He probably didn’t even mean to be rude. She’ll just sit back and ignore him.  
  
The guys talk shop for a little, something about who else from work is at this game to cover it for the blog, and then Samu gets up and smiles at them both.   
  
“Nice meeting you,” he tells Rebeka, then addresses both of them. (But mostly Valerio.) “I’ll catch up with you guys after, alright?”   
  
They both nod, but the second he’s out of earshot, she tugs on Valerio’s hair and whispers, “We’re fucking leaving early, I’m not risking running into Carla.”   
  
Rebe hides her face against his shoulder when Samuel and Carla walk past them again and Samu waves at them awkwardly. At least the two of them still seem to be hitting it off, judging by the effortless way in which Carla is holding Samuel’s hand as they walk to their seats. He pecks her cheek once they’re sitting down, and Carla beams at him. Eight days and counting — this whole thing is a definite success.   
  
Of course they’re not really here on matchmaking business — though it’s cool to be able to check in on that, too — but she still makes a joke about documenting their success, holds her phone up for a selfie and tries not to grin too wide when Valerio puts his chin on her shoulder and presses a kiss to her cheek.   
  
Ander’s response to the picture is just _who needs a horse fanatic when you’ve got *that* at your disposal_ and she thinks he’s fucking stupid, anyway.   
  
Just let her pretend she’s capable of having casual sex for longer than eight days, please.   
  
***  
  
Going from day drinking to full-on partying might’ve been a mistake. But Madrid lost, which is depressing and uncalled for, and Valerio is fun. She needs to have fun to forget about that game. He’s also arguably rather persuasive, though that might just be her falling for the charming smile on his face.

Anyway. He mentions some big rooftop party being thrown by ‘a friend of a friend’ and she doesn’t ask how he knows a person with access to a fucking downtown rooftop. She’s definitely wondering about that, though. Maybe she’ll bother him about it later.

They stop by his place after the game to have a bite to eat, and she borrows a shirt because she doesn’t need everyone she meets tonight to know she’s a football nerd. Thankfully she decided to wear a pretty bra today, one of those festival chic ones, so the simple maroon cotton shirt of his she borrows looks really cute pooling at her cleavage, revealing slivers of white lace. She’s wearing jeans shorts with it, and she’d be worried about freezing to death if she didn’t live in Madrid, where May is basically an extension of summer. The alcohol will keep her warm.

Valerio definitely seems to like her outfit, judging by the way he won’t stop playing with the hem of her (his) shirt as they walk over to the venue.

“So how do you know about this party?”

He tickles her side and shrugs. “I’m well connected.”

Ah, okay. “You could’ve just said your slutty roommate invited you.”

When he denies it was Polo who told him about the party, he’s being vague, which leads her to believe there’s something he isn’t telling her here. She isn’t gonna pry, but it’s a little odd.

The party is super fucking cool. Whoever told him about it must _actually_ be well connected — maybe she should find out and befriend them instead. The rooftop is huge, and decorated with cute fairy lights, and everyone at this party seems to have walked straight off the runway at a bougie bohemian fashion show.

An hour or two later, Valerio is leaning against the wall of the fire escape, a bottle of beer in hand, when she notices him tense up. He’s staring at someone across the open space, and Rebeka wants to say it’s Polo but she can’t be sure from this far away. She definitely can’t be sure after four gin and tonics. Her vision is a little blurry.

“The fuck is up with you, Curls?”

He shakes his head and grabs her hand, instantly back to looking jolly. “Do you wanna dance? Come on.”

She doesn’t really like forcing her friends to confide in her. If dancing and doing a couple of shots of tequila is what he’d rather be doing, she’s okay with that.

She gets fucking wasted. Like, everything’s spinning, might fall down and break into a fit of giggles type drunk. If Valerio wasn’t holding her up as they alternate between dancing and talking to random people, she’d undoubtedly topple over and land on the floor.

Fuck. She’s pretty sure she hasn’t been this drunk in years.

“Everything okay?” he whispers in her ear at some point, both hands firmly holding onto her waist as she’s leaning her head on his shoulder. This isn’t a slow song, but anything more than swaying is out of the question for now.

Rebe mumbles something incoherent in response, or at least that must be how it comes out because he pulls back to look at her, so chances are he didn’t actually understand her saying, “I’m fine.”

That was a lie anyway. She drags him over to the makeshift bar, then makes him pour her a large cup of water which she promptly chugs.

“Lush,” she hears him joke, his hand resting on the small of her back.

Whatever. She’s great at other things. So what if her alcohol tolerance isn’t as fabulous as her ability to excel at pretty much every other thing she’s ever attempted. She doesn’t have time to drink much these days. (She’s excellent at making excuses, too.)

Her head is still spinning, but the cold water helped a bit. Valerio is looking at her like he’s torn between concern and genuine amusement, and she hates having others take care of her, so she’ll go with amused — it must be amusing to watch her stumble around.

“Here,” he hands her a small bag of peanuts. She has no clue where those came from. “Eat these.”

Rebeka rolls her eyes. “Thanks, mom.”

Then he drags her over to a corner of the rooftop where a couple of bean bag chairs have been set up, sits down in one, and spreads his legs so there’s room for her to sit in between. She appreciates that; she’s not sure she’d be able to hold herself up if he wasn’t behind her.   
  
She’s busy eating her little pack of peanuts, and he giggles against her neck when she finally drops a few in an attempt to pour the remaining nuts into the palm of her hand. Not fucking funny, honestly. Her hand-eye coordination isn’t the best right now.   
  
Valerio hands her a bottle of water — again, she has no clue where he got that from so maybe she’s more drunk than she thought — and she leans back against his chest as she waits for him to twist the cap off for her. She’s drunk and feeling weak, and she likes when men do shit for her, okay? Don’t judge.   
  
She only notices he’s stopped listening to her drunk musings when he stops running his hand up and down her arm. When she looks back at him, he’s staring at two people she can vaguely tell are making out from this angle, and then he lets out a sigh.   
  
Channeling all of the remaining energy she’s got left, she asks, “Who’s that?”   
  
Valerio grips her arm a little tighter in response and groans.   
  
“Polo,” he says, sounding more than a little annoyed. Makes sense. She thought she saw him here earlier. The two silhouettes break apart, and she’s pretty sure they’re now walking towards them. God, she’s too drunk to interact with people.  
  
“And the girl?”   
  
He tightens his arms around her middle and she can feel him let out a breath against her neck. “That’s my little sister.”   
  
Huh. That’s interesting enough to sober her up.   
  
***  
  
Really, she doesn’t _mean_ to start laughing uncontrollably. It’s just fucking hilarious.   
  
Valerio’s sister — Lucrecia, what a mouthful — is sitting in front of her on the floor, her legs crossed and a bottle of beer in hand.   
  
“Wait, he did _what_?”   
  
“He dyed the dog pink,” Lucrecia says with an exasperated flick of her wrist. “Always been an idiot, my brother dearest.”  
  
Valerio scoffs behind her. “Love you too, sis.”   
  
Being an only child really feels like the best of both worlds right now. She gets to not have to deal with any potential siblings coming into town to sleep with her roommate — and god, Ander _so_ would, too — and yet she still gets to listen to all of this friendly sibling taunting. 

What she’s learned so far is casual affection runs in the family. Val’s sister keeps touching her thigh as they speak, leaning forward enough to give Rebeka a great view straight down her top, and she’s now told her at least two sexually explicit stories about what Val was like growing up so... Rebeka kind of likes the girl.

  
Polo is quiet in his spot next to Lucrecia, his eyes zeroed in on the sliver of skin bared by the top she’s wearing as he runs a finger over her abs again and again. God, Valerio must be fuming to know his — apparently — promiscuous sister is hooking up with his whore of a roommate.   
  
(Whore is a term of endearment in her book, alright? She’s not judging anyone for who they choose to sleep with.)

This would be a good time to mention that Valerio and his sister obviously won the genetic lottery — they’re definitely both hot enough for Rebeka to consider taking home. Lu (wise to go with a more palatable nickname) has dark brown hair that’s shiny and bouncy and long enough to pull on, she’s in ridiculous shape, and even though she can’t be very tall, she gives off tall vibes. Her lips are full and luscious, her eyes large and intriguing and done up all smoky and... Rebeka gets why Polo is distracted is all she’s saying. 

The girl fucking _exudes_ sex appeal.   
  
Half an hour ago, Rebe was kind of ready to head home and sleep, but now she’s having too much fun to go.   
  
“Who knew I’d miss so much by being gone for three months,” Lu says, lifting the bottle of beer to her lips. She takes an elegant sip, then licks her lips and makes eye contact with Rebe. Her gaze is so intense, it’s impossible to look away, and Rebeka suddenly feels intoxicated in a distinctly different way than she did a few minutes ago. “How did you two meet?”

If Valerio is in any way bothered by the obvious implication of them hooking up, he clearly doesn’t want his sister to know. Must be some sort of sibling rivalry thing her only child self doesn’t get. Rebeka figures she can play along if that’ll make him feel better.

“They work together,” Polo chimes in, coming to grin at Valerio. “Right?”   
  
(Why is Polo smirking like that? What did Val tell his best friend about her? Why is she drunkenly overthinking her stupid crush on her hot friend?)

Lu doesn’t wait for either of them confirm that. “Oh my god, please tell me he’s as bad at his job as I think he is.”

That’s a little mean, honestly. Valerio isn’t a model employee, but the way Lu is making it sound like he’s incapable of performing basic tasks is rude. The brunette’s got a hand on Rebe’s ankle now, which is a really fucking random place to touch her in, but it also kind of feels nice so she’s not gonna mention it.

“He’s actually pretty dedicated,” she says, then smiles a little when Valerio stifles a laugh against her cheek. Yeah, he’s still completely wrapped around her. Rebeka’s got zero complaints about that. “Definitely good at creative problem-solving.”

Polo grins. “Is that euphemism for finding new office corners to hook up in?”

When Valerio addresses the two sex fiends sat across from them, there’s a mean quality to the way he chuckles. Interesting; she’s never seen him like this. “I know it’s hard for you to believe, but not all of us spend every waking moment thinking about our next opportunity to get laid.”

He shouldn’t have challenged them like that. Lu instantly tucks her knees under herself and turns to face Polo, then grins and leans in for a kiss that most definitely isn’t ever appropriate in any sort of public setting. It’s more graphic than most foreplay in porn, honestly, and Rebeka can’t look away as Polo runs a hand up Lu’s skirt.

God, this must be fucking weird for Valerio to watch. She should try a little harder to not be so turned on by this whole display. Alcohol always makes her unreasonably horny anyway; she really doesn’t need any help with that.

“Hey, do you wanna get out of here?” she asks loudly, moving so she’s sitting on Val’s thigh. It’s easier to have this conversation when they're able to make eye contact. “I’m kinda tired.”

Valerio nods, not breaking intense eye contact once, possibly because he really doesn’t want to watch his sister dry hump his best friend. (Rebeka has her doubts about the whole... dry... aspect so she chooses not to look.)

When she gets up, Lu pulls away from Polo and jumps to her feet, then hooks her arm through Rebeka’s. “Let’s go home,” she says, and Rebe looks at Valerio for help. He looks just as clueless as she is. “I’m staying with Polo while I’m in town this weekend.”

Oh. Is Lu assuming she’s coming back to Val’s place? Rebe kind of thought she’d just get an Uber home and pass out in her own bed, but Valerio is giving her an annoyed yet pleading look, and she kind of can’t imagine just leaving him alone with those two.

It’s not the worst idea in the world, anyway, to not sleep alone tonight. She’s feeling significantly more sober, but in case she suddenly starts throwing up in her sleep, Valerio will be around to keep her from choking to death.

They were gonna catch up on next steps in their matchmaking plan tomorrow anyway. This will save her the trip across town.

She lets him take her hand in his and shakes his head in disbelief when Lu and Polo walk ahead towards the elevator like they own the place.

Poor Valerio.

***

The stupidest part of all of this is how she forgets she’s got male, mostly platonic company when they get to his bedroom. They’re so comfortable around each other at this point, for whatever reason, she just doesn’t remember he’s there basically. She strips off her shorts and instantly takes off her bra under her shirt. Valerio is standing on the other side of the bed, hands on the button of his pants, and he’s staring a little when she turns around to look at him.

If she wasn’t still feeling a tad under the influence, just enough to question her judgment, she’d swear he’s picturing her naked.

Anyway. He steps out of his pants, then takes off his shirt, and this isn’t fair. The first time she actually gets a proper view of his abs and chest — she was too caught off guard the last time — and she’s not actually sober enough to appreciate or still remember it tomorrow.

He’s unfairly built, honestly. The pair of briefs he’s wearing isn’t exactly helping Rebeka not imagine what he’s hiding underneath. He’s actually not hiding it very well at all.

Bad idea, bad idea, bad _fucking_ idea.

To break the weird sexual tension that’s sort of sizzling in the air, Rebeka says, “Which side of the bed do you sleep on,” and mentally chastises herself for sounding so fucking awkward. She just wants to get under the covers, curl up a decent distance away from him and sleep. 

Well, that’s not what she _wants_ exactly, but it’s what she should do.

Valerio shrugs, so she dives under the covers and settles in the middle of the bed. She doesn’t like sleeping on either side when the middle offers the most blanket coverage. When he turns around after having turned off the ceiling light, he’s grinning at her. “What? Dealer’s choice.”

Walking over, he pulls on the sheet until she’s fully uncovered again, and she tries to ignore the way the cold air hits her bare stomach where her (his) shirt has ridden up. God. Any residue drunkenness slips away, and suddenly all she can think about is touching him. This is going to be torture.

“Pretty sure I’m the dealer. It’s my bed,” he says, and the suggestive tone of his voice makes her want to do bad things to him. She feels her breathing get a little heavier, sees her chest heave from the corner of her eye and decides she doesn’t really care about how the chilly air has resulted in her nipples being visibly into all this. Maybe she’s just cold.   
  
This would be a good time to mention that neither of them has so far acknowledged the fact that this impromptu sleepover is happening at all. They’ve _definitely_ not talked about how it’s only happening because he didn’t want to tell his sister they’re not dating. What a weird competitive bunch.

How the fuck is she gonna share a bed with him and not sleep with him? That sounds impossible. He’s staring at her chest now, his face illuminated by the dim light of the lamp on the nightstand, and she thinks if she doesn’t do something about this now, it’ll be too late. She’ll definitely let herself fuck him, and then that’ll be the end of this chill office friendship.

It’s Valerio who finally gets a grip. Thank fucking god. She’s not sure she would’ve had the willpower to put an end to this. He throws the duvet back at her, completely covering her in the process, then slips into bed to the left of her and turns off the remaining light.

For a moment, they just lie there in silence, their legs touching, and Rebeka is about to turn around and say something when they hear a loud female moan coming from across the hall.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Rebe whispers. Valerio turns his back to the door and runs his fingers up and down her rib cage. “How do you put up with them?”

It’s bad enough to have to listen to your roommate have sex all the time — she would know — but to hear him fuck your sister? Val must be going insane.

“I try not to judge,” he says. That’s a bullshit answer if she’s ever heard one. “Usually doesn’t work, though.”

Rebeka giggles. That sounds about right. “Maybe we should expand our matchmaking services. We could set her up with someone else.”

“Nah. She doesn’t even live in the area. Chances are she’s got someone back in Lisbon, she’s just too used to sleeping with Polo on her visits to stop.”

She’s never been more thrilled to be an only child. Her fingers brush through his hair, then come to rest on his shoulder and neck, and she seriously needs this to stop. Someone needs to put a stop to this, and it isn’t gonna be her. It’s fucking out of her hands at this point. Well, she’s got her hands firmly resting on his skin, so it’s more, like, _under_ her hands but whatever — you know what she means.

The moaning next door is getting louder, the sound of a bed frame squeaking now adding to the uncomfortable atmosphere, and Rebeka figures she’ll make a joke to lighten the mood. She turns over onto her side so they’re face to face, then tangles her legs with his and smirks.

“You could always tease her right back. I can be loud.”

She can’t make out his face in the dark, but she’s sure she isn’t imagining the way he’s trying intently to look anywhere but at her. She runs her fingers over his thigh and plays with the waistband of his briefs, then moves lower so she’s cupping him, and they hiss at the same time when she realizes he’s already half hard. For _her_. She fucking did this to him.

“Don’t fuckin’ say shit you don’t mean,” he tells her, then roughly pushes her hand off of him and turns away from her.

Well. Okay. She definitely _meant_ that.

***

In the morning, she wakes up to Valerio spooning her, and she’s too comfortable and lazy to bother getting up.

These days she tends to be restless in her sleep when she drinks, and the added layer of sexual frustration didn’t actually help make this drunken slumber more enjoyable. Even now, she’s still feeling kind of exhausted. She has no idea what time it is.

Having Valerio completely pressed against her? That’s definitely enjoyable.   
  
He kisses the back of her neck ( _fuck_ ), then lets out a sleepy hum, and his voice is rough with sleep when he says, “G’morning.”  
  
She subconsciously pushes herself closer to him. There’s a burning ache moving through the lower half of her body, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the slight nausea she’s feeling after a night of drinking.   
  
Fuck. How is she gonna get out of this situation without making a fool of herself? After last night, she has no clue how to act around him. She basically offered herself up to him on a silver platter and he rejected her. Maybe she can just pretend she was drunk and doesn’t remember? Right. That sounds like a good plan.   
  
He reaches for his phone on the nightstand and holds it up so she can see the time. 9:02. That’s way too early to be awake, considering they didn’t get back until three.   
  
“If you wanna leave before they wake up and spend the morning trying to piss me off by having sex in the kitchen, now is the time.”  
  
It would be cruel to leave him alone with that burden. She moves so her head is resting on his chest, then says, “Can we just go back to sleep,” and when he doesn’t say anything else, she figures that’s a yes.   
  
For someone who’s perpetually single because she’s terrible at keeping anyone around long term, Rebeka likes sleeping next to other people a little too much. This is bliss.   
  
It’s also torture because she knows nothing’s gonna happen, but that doesn’t mean she can’t totally use him for body heat and as a pillow while she gets another hour of sleep.   
  
They compare Carla and Samuel’s schedules for the week before she leaves at 1, and she doesn’t run into his sister or his roommate on her way out, so all things considered things go better than expected.   
  
She ignores horse guy’s attempt at sexting on her way home. She just isn’t in a horsey mood.

***

Ander is absolutely insufferable about the whole thing, of course. Her fucking fault for telling him about her night of sexless ecstasy in the first place.

“Just admit you want to fuck him.”

“Of course I want to fuck him.”

She’s not a fucking liar. Ander should know that by now.

“Well then why _didn’t_ you? You just said you were literally fucking feeling him up in his bed.”

There isn’t really any reason she can give to make this make sense to him. The whole matchmaking thing is strictly between them and she kind of likes it that way. She’s definitely not gonna tell Ander about it now.

That’s not why she didn’t sleep with him anyway.

“We’re friends. You know, like, friends who don’t sleep with each other. Must be a strange concept for you.”

Of course she’s slept with Ander. She had to know what all the hype was about. That was before they ever moved in together, five or six years ago during university, and while the sex was great, they both agreed their friendship was too important to ruin over how much they enjoyed seeing each other naked.

Ander rolls his eyes at her, then hands her the TV remote and gets up. “Pick something to watch. I’ll make dinner, you’ve suffered enough this weekend.”

He really is the best roommate she could ever ask for.

***

Three more weeks of work pass without any major incident. Carla is still dating — _seeing_ , the blonde corrects her when she talks to her about it once — Samuel, Rebeka still has a life outside of work and an accomplice sitting one floor below.   
  
Really, it’s barely even work, the whole matchmaking thing. They get Carla flowers sometimes or organize dinner reservations, and Rebe has to move a late meeting or two to make sure Carla is free the day Samuel surprises her with tickets to a theater production Rebeka knows Carla has been dying to see, but that’s it. It’s just another part of her job at this point.  
  
Things are going well.   
  
Not just for her boss, but for Rebeka, too. She’s still occasionally seeing horse guy, though she’s getting a little tired of how the only thing he’s got going for him is horsepower in bed, and honestly, the way she keeps coming up with worse sexy horse puns is reason enough for her to end it at this point.  
  
She’s out for a drink with Valerio one day, sitting across from him with the sun in her face. After work drinks are the biggest perk of having gotten her evenings back.   
  
“I still don’t get what you see in horse guy.”   
  
Is it bad that she literally never even told him horse guy’s real name? Probably.   
  
“Why do I have to see anything in him. I like seeing him naked. He’s hot. That’s it.”   
  
Valerio doesn’t say anything, so she kicks him in the shin and waits for him to look at her again.   
  
“Are you really lecturing me on hooking up with people I don’t like? You haven’t even seen the girl you’re dating in, like, three weeks.”  
  
“Hey! I like her. That’s not the issue,” he takes a large sip of his beer. “She’s just—“ boring, no match for him, never going to be the kind of challenge he needs, “— busy at the moment.”   
  
Holy shit, is she _jealous?_ She really needs to shut that shit down right the fuck now.   
  
When she doesn’t say anything in response, he gives her a prompting look, then shrugs good-naturedly and she finds herself biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.  
  
She changes the subject because anything else would feel too weird now, would make her say something stupid and presumptuous that she might regret later. This is a thing they’ve been doing — whenever they get a little too close to admitting they kind of want to make out with each other, they just talk about work instead.   
  
Not that matchmaking is strictly considered _work_ at this point, but, you know. It’s a safe, neutral topic to help de-escalate things.  
  
“Carla’s been hinting at taking an actual vacation this summer. Has Samu let anything slip?”  
  
It’s been a hilarious change of pace to witness. Her boss has basically been gradually inching closer to just outright telling her she’s taking a week off — her most recent attempt featured the words _break_ and _potentially_ and Rebeka has told her at least five times that she can just take some fucking time off without making it sound like she’s going on a fucking wellbeing journey to help her recuperate and be ready for more work in the fall. Like, successful people get to take time off too. They probably deserve it even more than others.   
  
“He’s been looking at hotels in New York.”

Nope. Not good enough. She makes a dismissive gesture with her hands.   
  
“Way too humid in the summer. Carla can’t deal with humidity.”   
  
“The Maldives?”   
  
“Be more cliché, I dare you.”  
  
Valerio looks peeved. Look, it’s not like she enjoys shooting his ideas down — they’re just usually terrible. (Come to think of it, she does enjoy it. She enjoys it a lot. Leave her be.)   
  
“Fine,” he says, frustrated. “Tell me what to suggest.”

“Carla likes Scandinavia. Pretty scenery, less extreme temperatures, finally being surrounded by other pretty blonde people…”

Across from her, Val sighs. “Just tell me which country. You know if I suggest Scandinavia, Samu will somehow pick the worst possible one.”

That’s a valid point, probably. He does seem to have a hand for finding himself in awkward situations that could’ve been avoided with slightly less clumsy decision making.

“Norway,” Rebe decides. “Maybe Sweden, too, if they’ve got time for a road trip.”

“Fjords and ABBA... wouldn’t have pegged Carla as the type.”

Rebeka nips at her whiskey and rolls her eyes. “Have you ever _been_ to Scandinavia?” He shakes his head and she laughs. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

They toast to Carla and Samuel’s upcoming one month anniversary, and when Val shoots her the biggest possible grin, she makes up her mind.

Horse guy is being ghosted.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s inherently selfish if Valerio is being honest. He wants Samu and Carla to go on this trip because he and Rebeka have already agreed they’d take the same week off and hang out.

He’d feel a little more stupid about his crush on her if she didn’t sometimes seem just as rattled by his presence.

On a Thursday afternoon in early June, Samu finally sits him down, hands him a beer — he loves working for a guy who doesn’t mind day-drinking — and says, “So week after next. Are you cool with me taking a break from this place?”

He’s gotten a little better at concealing his emotions as of late. He’s obviously delighted with these news but he doesn’t need Samu to know that. “Sounds good, boss.”

The fact that he won’t be working that week either is implied. Samuel is hardly the kind of boss who needs a remote assistant on call during a holiday. Valerio will watch Rosa, but that’s barely even work, and he’ll probably get to hang out with Rebeka a lot, which is going to be awesome.

(He’s totally finally gonna make a move.)

“Where are you going in the end?”

“You were right. She wanted to go to Norway, I wanted to go to New York. The flight to Oslo is booked.”

Samu looks amused, and Valerio chuckles, then slaps his shoulder encouragingly. “Glad you figured out a compromise.”

“Women, am I right?”

He nods and sips his beer. He’s not gonna outright agree with him on that. Sometimes Samu’s jokes just don’t land.

The conversation turns to work, and he finds himself glancing at his phone as Samu goes on and on about to-dos for next week. All he wants to do is tell Rebeka the good news. Chances are she’ll already know — she tends to know things before he does.

Is it weird that he thinks that’s fucking hot? She’s so much smarter than him. He fucking loves when she gets all cocky and abrasive about it. Nothing hotter than a woman who knows how fucking great she is.

“Val? Are you listening to me?”

He wasn’t, but he nods, just says, “Got it, will do,” and really hopes it wasn’t anything important when Samuel smiles encouragingly.  
  
No one ever claimed Valerio is good at his job.

***  
  
On Tuesday, Rebeka texts him asking if he wants to have lunch, and because he never remembers what he’s meant to be doing on any given day, he checks his calendar app before replying. That’s something he learned early on in this job; if he wants any chance of remembering _when_ he needs to be _where_ , he needs to be writing it down.  
  
Fuck. He’s got to take Rosa to the vet for a check up at 1:00. Why did he schedule that during lunch? It’s probably not too late to cancel, and he happens to know the vet practice owner _quite_ well, so he dials Caye’s number before he can talk himself out of it.  
  
Should he feel weird about how they haven’t spoken in a few weeks? Maybe. He doesn’t, though. He doesn’t tend to psych himself out about this kind of stuff. Caye is nice. She’ll get it.  
  
“Valerio? Hi,” Caye says over the phone, her voice sounding chipper. He can hear barking in the background.  
  
“Sorry, are you busy?”  
  
She laughs. “Just in with a patient. He’s about to give up his reproductive rights.”  
  
Oops. He makes a joke about taking away a dog’s manhood and they make chitchat for a while. It’s a shame there’s no real spark because they get along. She’s one of the nicest, most normal people he’s ever dated.  
  
“Listen, I can’t make it for Rosa’s 1’o’clock today,” he starts, then takes a deep breath. “I think we should probably stop, like, seeing each other or whatever.”  
  
Cayetana chuckles. “Smooth. Are you telling me you’re gonna find another vet?”  
  
What? No. “Of course not, I just meant we shouldn’t see each other outside of that.”  
  
“Oh.” She’s quiet for a moment. God, is he a dick for doing this over the phone? Then she says, “I kind of thought we had already stopped,” and he wonders if _she’s_ being a dick now.  
  
Same difference. The result is the same. They reschedule Rosa’s appointment for later in the week, say their goodbyes, and Valerio doesn’t even bother looking over at Samu, who probably heard all of that. The guy is weirdly perceptive when he wants to be, and completely oblivious when he doesn’t.  
  
As he’s on his way out the door for lunch, Samu asks, “You were fucking the vet?”  
  
Valerio grins at Samu, then shrugs and definitely ignores his attempt at turning this into a fist bump worthy moment.  
  
He doesn’t know why he doesn’t mention it to Rebeka during the 62-minute long break they spend together. It doesn’t feel important.  
  
***  
  
Two days before Samuel and Carla’s flight to Oslo is scheduled to take off, Valerio gets an amusing call. It’s always entertaining when Samu gives his family his office number because he doesn’t want to deal with them.  
  
“Hey, by the way,” Val tells Samu when he gets back from lunch. “Your brother called. He said you’re invited to his birthday party tomorrow.”  
  
Valerio knows there’s some weird animosity between the brothers — he’s never asked, but every single time this ominous older brother has been mentioned, Samu has looked a little uncomfortable.  
  
“Oh, right. Yeah just send a card. I send my best, blah, blah, the usual.”  
  
Val struggles not to laugh. Sometimes Samu is so nonchalant about things that would bother him immensely, but maybe that’s because he actually has an okay relationship with his sister when she isn’t busy seducing his best friend right in front of him.  
  
It’s none of his business to ask why his boss wants to send a generic birthday card to his brother. Samu looks a little sheepish when he looks up at him, like he can tell from Valerio’s lack of reaction that he’s wondering about what exactly is up.  
  
“You know we don’t talk.”

That’s probably all the explanation he’ll get, so he nods and turns back to his computer. But he can’t help it; he _really_ wants to know. Thankfully Samu is bad at letting awkward silences linger, and before Val knows what’s happening, his boss is at his side, leaning on his desk as he stares off into the distance.

“After the whole cheating thing... we just lost touch.”

That’s not exactly painting a clearer picture. What whole cheating thing? Who cheated and with whom? How is this related to his brother?

“And I mean, she lost the baby, but still.”

Valerio has no clue who Samu is talking about. He looks genuinely pained at the memory, and Val instantly feels the need to end this conversation. It’s probably for the best if they stop here.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll go get that card, okay?”

Samu nods and smiles at him, but when Valerio looks back at him as he’s heading for the door, he’s still just staring at a random spot on the wall.  
  
Sometimes his boss is a true mystery.

***

Sunday night, he’s over at Rebeka’s, celebrating their upcoming week off.

It’s really fucking funny how Rebe can’t hold her liquor. Mainly because she’s such an adult about everything else, so bold and casual and mature — it’s a hilarious contradiction. She’s had maybe three bottles of beer, and yet she’s leaning on him like she’s already struggling to hold herself up. He’s not complaining about that; he never minds getting an opportunity to have her close.

For someone who’s involved in a grand matchmaking scheme, he’s really fucking terrible at finally making a move on his crush. It’s obvious he’s not the brains behind the operation.

“You know,” she says, lifting her head off his shoulder so she can grin at him properly. “This is fun.”

He struggles not to grin. Tipsy Rebeka is hilarious. Sometimes she sounds a lot like him after a few drinks. He’s not sure what that says about him.

“What’s fun?”

She takes a moment to think about that, scrunching up her nose as she does. “This.”

“Sitting next to me is fun?”

The look on her face is fucking adorable. If she wasn’t visibly under the influence, he’d consider just bridging the gap between them and kissing her, but maybe right now isn’t the time.

(What? He’s not being a coward about any of this. The right moment is gonna present itself, and they’ll both _know_ it’s the right moment. There’s no need to force fate’s hand — he’s certainly resigned to his.)

Her roommate, whom Valerio only knows from Rebe’s epic stories so far, unlocks the front door and comes over to chat, and he finds himself thinking the guy is kind of hot. Considering the way he drops down on the couch next to Val and puts an arm around him as he quizzes him like he’s Rebe’s father giving her high school boyfriend a talking to, he wonders if he’s got some competition for her affection.

Or maybe her friend is just protective and a little territorial.

“Sorry, she never brings anyone home. Had to make sure she knows she can count on me to scare her boyfriends off.”

Rebe groans out Ander’s name, then reaches across Val to punch him in the chest. Ander blows her a kiss in response.

A minute later, Ander takes the bottle of beer from Rebeka’s hand and grins at Valerio. “Hey, she said your roommate is hot. Text him, I’m bored.”

Rebeka punches him in the shoulder this time, then says, “Sorry, I’ve been telling him he needs to get therapy for his love addiction,” and Valerio rest his head on hers as he giggles.

Having Polo come over is preferable to having Ander third wheel them all night, so he texts Polo Rebeka’s address, answers his confused reply with a picture Ander sends him which he describes as, “The highlight of my Grindr profile,” and Polo is at the door a mere 25 minutes later.

“What? I was in the neighborhood,” Polo tells him when Valerio gives him an amused look. He walks further into the apartment, spots Rebeka and Ander and grins. “I didn’t realize we’d moved on to double dating.”

Within minutes, Polo and Ander are huddled close together on the armchair in the corner of the room, loudly discussing how fucking stupid Rebeka and/or Valerio is/are for not just hooking up. He sips his beer, then looks over at Rebe and chuckles when she rolls her eyes at their roommates. A definite match made in heaven.

He’s gonna pretend she didn’t just roll her eyes at him right after Polo said, “It’s so obvious he wants to fuck her, right?”

He’s not sure he can take the rejection today.

The boys are clearly hitting it off, and they eventually move back over to the couch, a tight fit for four people so Rebeka ends up sitting in Valerio’s lap. Polo actually winks at him when it happens, says something about this being a cozy affair and jeez, he really didn’t need his friend around to stir the pot.

Two drinks and however many hours or minutes later, Rebeka grabs his hand and whispers, “Let’s go out for a smoke,” even though she barely even smokes. He’s spent a lot of time around her lately and he’s seen her smoke, like, maybe twice. This must be code for something else. See? He’s not completely oblivious. (He’s pretty proud of himself for noticing.)

She gets up and holds her hand out to him, and fine, he wouldn’t mind being alone with her. He doesn’t mention the fact that she doesn’t even have a lighter or cigarettes on her as they walk away.

Once they’re out on the balcony, she grins at him, and he’s kind of confused. Is he missing something?

“You don’t even smoke,” he says when she closes the door behind them. All she does is roll her eyes at him and motion to the living room, but when he steps closer to look, Ander and Polo are just talking quietly, even though they’re touching a lot.

“Ander and I have developed a shorthand of gestures. He clearly motioned for us to leave them alone.”

“Can’t they just go to his room if they wanna fuck?”

Rebeka pushes at his shoulder and giggles, then shushes him when she spots Ander leaning in to kiss Polo.

“God, this is gonna backfire so hard.”

Rebe grabs his hand. “What? Letting our very attractive roommates meet?”

“It’s not like either of them struggles to find new people to make out with. Does it _have_ to be each other?”

Really, he’s just annoyed about what this might mean for his prospects when it comes to dating Rebeka. Polo better not ruin this for him, not over some stupid one night stand.

“Oh my god,” she grins at him, then stretches both of her arms up to hold onto his shirt at his shoulders. “You’re jealous.”

“Fuck off.”

That only serves to make her laugh harder. “But you are.”

He’s noticed he gets a little aggressive when she puts him on the spot. It’s kind of odd because it’s never happened to him before, not with any other woman. Now he grabs one of her wrists roughly where it’s lingering on his shoulder and moves it to his waist instead.

“What would I be jealous of? Believe me, I take care of my own business.”

Rebeka swallows, raising a brow at him. Shit, did he actually just say that? He takes care of his own _business_? God. He probably didn’t need to allude to the fact that he’s spent a lot of time naked and alone, thinking about fucking her lately.

He’s waiting for her to make a joke or a pointed remark about his lackluster game, but she doesn’t. Instead, she scoffs then tears her hand away from his and grabs his neck roughly so she can pull him down for a kiss.

It takes him a second to understand that this is actually happening, but then he’s kissing her back, lifting her up so she can wrap her legs around him as he presses her back against the window. Her tongue is in his mouth, her hands are digging into the muscle of his shoulder and back, and this is exactly how he pictured it.

She kisses exactly how she fights — the touch of her lips on his is aggressive but pointed, but there’s a fondness in it too.

A loud knocking noise on the window makes them jump apart and come face to face with Ander and Polo. Of course. Polo pulls the door open and sticks his head out.

“Who kissed who? We have a bet going.”  
  
They literally met two hours ago and already found the time to bet on this? Makes sense. God, maybe he needs to find a better best friend. Polo can be such a cunt about things.

Rebeka runs a hand through her hair in an attempt to make it look less messy, but really, it’s kind of a lost cause. He thinks it’s a great look on her. She pushes past Polo and pokes Ander in the chest, then says, “Go to your room,” in a threatening way. Ander actually obliges, just pulls Polo away with him, and Valerio is left standing across from her with a grin on his face.

He reaches for her and runs a hand over her collarbone. “So...”

She’s such a fucking menace. He’s so into her, it’s not even funny. She kisses him again, just a teasing brush of her lips on his, then plays with his belt loops for a moment and pushes him away roughly.

“Go home. I’m not taking care of your business for you.”

He doesn’t bother trying to fight her on that. This whole thing is a little too hot to argue her on; he’s sure the eventual payoff will be worth it.

Valerio calls her an hour later when he’s in bed with a hand wrapped around his cock, and when she doesn’t pick up that tells him all he needs to know about what she’s up to.

The week ahead is gonna be great.

***

Day one of their staycation they spend about thirty minutes outside of the city, just lounging in and around the pool at this fancy mansion she’s got access to. He didn’t ask and she didn’t elaborate. Rosa is playing with one of her toys on the meadow, content entertaining herself, so Valerio can focus all of his attention on the girl in the pool with him.

He’s got Rebeka pushed against the wall of the pool, one hand playing with the strings on her bikini bottoms and he’s just about to finally lean in and kiss her for the first time today when he hears someone walk over and clear their throat.

“Baby, you didn’t mention the boyfriend you hinted at is this yummy to look at.”

He looks at Rebeka’s face for clues as to what’s going on. All he finds is a resigned frown and a hint of embarrassment. He figures he should probably move his hands to a more appropriate place so he rests them both on her waist.

Rebeka looks over at the woman, then sighs as she pushes Valerio away.

“Mom,” she says, turning around so he’s standing behind her. Mom? “I didn’t know you were home. Dad said you’re spending the month in the south.”

“I got bored. Left him there — you know he’ll be fine as long as he’s got the neighbors to talk to.”

Is no one gonna acknowledge that Rebe apparently told her mother she has a boyfriend? That she told her mother he’s her boyfriend? Wait, did she? He’s so lost.

“This is Valerio,” Rebeka says, gesturing to him. “We work together.”

He looks at her mom and smiles, even though he’s kind of intimidated by the shameless look on her face. Is she checking him out? There’s a smirk on her lips when she says, “A real pleasure to meet you, Valerio. I’m Sandra, and no, before you ask, we’re not sisters.”

That makes him laugh. Rebeka sighs in front of him and he pinches her hip for good measure.

“Nobody thinks we’re sisters, mom. You’re twenty-seven years older than me.”

“Twenty-six and a half,” Sandra says, then winks at Valerio, and yeah, this explains a lot about Rebeka. He’s pretty thrilled about all this. Meeting his adult friends’ parents is always amusing. “Well, I’ll be inside if you need anything.”

They both stand there in silence, watching her go, and then Rebeka turns around and buries her head against his chest. “Sorry.”

He grins at her, then tugs on her ponytail to get her to look up at him. “What are you apologizing for? The blatant sexual harassment? I’m used to it.”

“Of course. I’m sure you have cougars checking you out all the time.”

Instead of keeping this conversation going, he just kisses her, and when she whines out his name and tries to pull away, he tightens his grip on her hips and doesn’t let her move.

“We shouldn’t do this,” she finally says when she manages to get away from him for a moment. “You’re.... and I’m...”

Well, if she could form coherent sentences, he might agree with her, but as things stand, she’s not very convincing. “Give me one reason why we shouldn’t do this.”

“We work together.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Our bosses are dating.”

“Don’t care.”

She slaps his biceps and splashes some water in his direction. It’s fun, trying to get a rise out of her.

“You have a girlfriend.”

Ha. “We broke up a week ago.”

That finally leaves her stunned. She’s looking up at him with a calculating expression, and he’s pretty sure this is it. She’s clearly done fighting this.

He doesn’t expect the slap. She’s quick. Suddenly his cheek is wet and stings a little, and Rebeka is instantly all up in his space to kiss it better. “You couldn’t have just told me that like a normal person?”

“Didn't really seem important.”

He’s feeling a little sheepish about not mentioning it to her before. Maybe if he’d told her, they could’ve skipped all this weird back and forth. Rebeka kisses him, then moves them back until her shoulders hit the pool ladder and she sits down on it.

“You’re the dumbest person I know.”

“And yet you’re into me.”

The grin on her lips is enough to make him feel giddy.

***

Annoyingly, Rebeka’s got plans on Tuesday which means after spending the day in the park with Rosa, he ends up on his couch by himself. He’s drinking some very nice Sauvignon blanc when Polo gets home from work that afternoon.

“Not with your new girlfriend? Weird.”

The stupid teasing doesn’t faze him at all. The way Polo reaches for the wine definitely does. He slaps Polo’s wrist when he takes a swig straight from the bottle. This is really nice wine; he better not ruin it by leaving his spit all over the bottleneck.

“She’s hanging out with friends.” He thinks, anyway. He didn’t ask for details when she said she was busy. They don’t have to be attached at the hip.

Polo grins at him. “Ander says she doesn’t have friends.”

“When did he say that? When you were balls deep inside him?”

Instead of looking scandalized by that remark, Polo just smirks at him. “I’m a switch.”

“Believe me, everyone can tell.”  
  
Polo plays with his watch and taps his fingers on the band impatiently.

“So what’s she like? Y’know, in bed,” he steals the glass of wine from Valerio’s hands and takes a sip. He’d be annoyed with him for that if it wasn’t preferable to him just drinking from the bottle. Manners are important.

“None of your business.”

Polo fakes a gasp. “Your game is so weak, dude. She’s obviously willing and you haven’t fucked her yet? Man the fuck up!”

There’s no way Polo would get it, so he doesn’t bother taking offense. He likes her a lot, okay? He doesn’t wanna fuck things up by moving too fast. It’ll happen organically.  
  
He’s texting Rebeka later that night, sufficiently tipsy, and when he asks if he can call her all she says is _I guess I can’t stop you._  
  
She sounds tired when she picks up the phone, and yeah, maybe hearing her grumble about how he’s pestering her after a long day is the highlight of his evening. Rebeka is just really cute when she’s grumpy.  
  
“Sorry, not sure I’m the best company right now,” she mutters, and he can practically picture the frustrated look on her face.  
  
“What did you do all day?”  
  
“Too much.” She sighs. “Helped my mother redecorate the fuckin’ living room.”  
  
That’s a fun visual. Her mother seems far from ordinary — doing anything normal with her probably comes with a touch of crazy. He kinda sees where Rebeka gets it from.  
  
“Tomorrow is another day.”  
  
Rebeka laughs. “I can’t believe you’re making me go to IKEA just because you’ve never been.”  
  
“I need someone to show me how it works!”  
  
“Val, there isn’t actually anything about IKEA that’d require a detailed introduction,” she says, and he likes how she sounds fond despite the obvious annoyance in her voice. “It’s fucking late, can we talk about this tomorrow?”  
  
Of course they can. They can talk about this tomorrow when he gets to spend all day with her again. Polo would literally never stop making fun of him if he knew how excited Val is about that.  
  
“Dirty dreams,” he jokes.  
  
“Not in _this_ bed. God, I hate this stupid mattress.”  
  
“Wait. Are you in your childhood bedroom? Looking up at your old Zac Efron posters? That’s hot.”  
  
“Shut up, dumbass,” she says, then adds, “They’re mostly Johnny Depp.”  
  
He needs to hang up right now if he doesn’t wanna cross any barely-there lines and turn this whole conversation dirty and weird. He can hit on her in person tomorrow.  
  
God, he’s totally fucking blanking on what to say. “Um, good night,” he finally blurts out, cringing at himself when she makes fun of him for it.  
  
Whatever. It’s not like she’s any better at all this. They’ll figure it out.  
  
***

In the morning, Samu texts him asking for a picture of Rosa, asks if she’s doing okay, and Val figures he can probably use this as an opportunity to check in on how the lovebirds are doing. See? He’s not half bad at this, and this time Rebeka didn’t even have to coach him.

Samu sends him a picture of Carla smiling wide on a boat, her hair braided down her back and a sailor's hat draped low on her forehead. That’s a pretty cool look on her. 

**Valerio - 10:03 am**

_nice fjord views_

**Samuel - 10:05 am**

_Need you to help me with something_

**Samuel - 10:06 am**

_Find a nice ring_

**Samuel - 10:06 am**

_Maybe ur gf can help u? something simple but elegant_

That can probably be arranged. It only takes him a minute or two to figure out who the _girlfriend_ Samu is referring to is supposed to be. Kind of nice of his boss to help him manifest that.

He doesn’t really know why he doesn’t mention the ring thing to Rebeka. It’s obviously just a token of appreciation, not an engagement ring, but he really wants to hear about her freakout when she sees Carla with it at the office. It’s an innocent enough prank.

His sense of style is great, but he’s not sure he’s good with women’s jewelry. He texts Samu a thumbs-up emoji, then texts his sister and enlists her help in finding a dainty, understated ring. Lu actually sends him the perfect one — a white gold slim band with a pretty finish, and he figures he’ll have their initials engraved on the inside for good measure. Samuel didn’t specify whether he wanted that, but it’ll make the gift more personal.

The purchase is completed in no time, to be delivered to Samuel’s apartment complex within two days, and not for the first time, Valerio finds himself thinking he isn’t even that bad at his day job.

***

He literally could not care less about finally stepping foot into an IKEA for the first time.

He definitely cares about the confident way in which Rebeka grabs his hand when they meet outside the furniture store.

Honestly, for someone as chill as Valerio, this whole actually wanting to date someone badly enough to feel a little nervous about it thing is completely uncharted territory. He spent the Uber ride over here contemplating whether it’d be weird to just kiss her hello (probably), then decided he’d go for an enthusiastic hug (didn’t happen) and finally just settled on grinning at her until she rolled her eyes and reached for his hand.

A pretty good outcome, if you ask him.

They’re halfway through the showroom — his favorite part of being at IKEA so far has been getting to play pretend in the fake furnished apartments — when he pulls her into a secluded fake bathroom and crowds her against the washing machine until she hops up to sit on it.

Rebeka pulls him closer and bites her lip. “Did you really wait until apartment number five to accost me? You’re terrible at this whole IKEA thing.”

This is his time to shine. He leans forward and kisses her cheek, then her nose, and when he moves back for a moment to watch her face for a reaction, she looks sufficiently into all this. Tugging on her hair just a bit, he pulls her towards him and kisses her lips for the first time in two days, smiling into the kiss when she instantly tries to turn it into more.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to have sex in the fake IKEA apartments,” he whispers against her neck on a quick break from kissing.

Rebeka tugs on his ear and shrugs. “It’s obvious you’ve never been here before.”

This is fucking fun. He never thought he’d get such a kick out of visiting a furniture store.

After a few more kisses, he finally takes a step back and grabs her by the straps of her jeans overalls until she’s got her feet back under her.

“Let’s go get lunch. I wanna know what the whole IKEA meatball cult is about.”

Lingonberry jam isn’t _really_ his jam, but she definitely is, and he loves the picture he snaps of her after he put the little Sweden flag he found on his plate in her hair.

“By the way,” he says, holding out his phone to her. She zooms in on Carla’s face in the boat picture and a satisfied smirk settles on her lips. He loves when she looks like that. “Norway’s going well for them.”

“We’re so fucking good at this,” Rebeka gushes. “I’ve never seen her that happy. God, we deserve the biggest fucking raise.”

They really do. It’s been over a month now, and it’s obvious Carla and Samuel are really hitting it off. He’s totally happy for them, but he’s happiest for himself; it’s been great to use this to get closer to Rebeka.

He nods at her from across the table at the IKEA restaurant, then holds his hand up for a high five, which she participates in after minimal eye rolling.

“Does IKEA sell candles? I need some candles.”

“Oh babe, you have no idea.”

The sarcastic way she utters that pet name makes him chuckle, but it also makes him wonder what sort of pet names she’d use for him in other situations. Maybe in front of her parents, or with her friends, or in bed... He’ll try his best to find out soon.

***

In the end, he doesn’t quite manage to leave IKEA empty-handed. He sees why people like it so much; the downstairs area of the store was pretty much exclusively filled with small silly stuff he definitely didn’t _need_ , but he bought a ton of random shit anyway.

They’re in the back of an Uber, two large blue bags filled with plants, candles and a couple of nice wine glasses in their lap. Rebeka looks over at him and grins, then asks whether Polo is gonna be home and god, he really hopes he won’t be. Maybe he should text him and ask him to leave.

Of course he’s home. Rosa runs towards the door when they walk in, barking like seeing him again is the highlight of her young life, and he sets the IKEA bag down so he can sit down on the floor and let Rosa climb into his lap. Maybe he should get a dog.

“She loves me more than you, but she still missed you today,” Polo says, walking over. He’s shirtless, and Rebeka just looks at him and rolls her eyes.

“What the fuck do you do for a living if you can just play doggy daycare all day?”

Polo shrugs. “I believe my job title is _son of the CEO_. Comes with certain fringe benefits.”

“That explains a lot.”

He scratches Rosa behind the ears and lets them continue the conversation without him. It’s nice to think Rebeka knows how to handle Polo. The guy definitely deserves to be put in his place every once in a while, and it’ll be nice to have someone back him up.

(He’s assuming she’s gonna be around a lot, because they’re obviously going to start dating, and once that happens it’ll be great to see his girlfriend and best friend vibe well.)

Polo looks between them and grins. “How was your platonic IKEA trip?”

Rebeka shrugs. “Amazing. Very platonic. How’s your variety of STDs?”

Damn, she sure knows how to shut Polo down when he tries to be a little bitch about things. Fucking hot. Valerio laughs out loud, then gets up off the floor and puts an arm around Rebeka.

“Come on, we’ve got shopping to unpack,” he tells her, then picks up both of the bags and walks towards his room, smiling to himself when he notices Rebeka following him.

“Use protection,” they hear Polo yell, and if he had a free hand, he’d flip him off. He just looks over at Rebeka, who seems to be thinking the same thing because she turns around holds up her middle finger. God, she’s literally his dream girl.

Once inside, he sets the bags down on the floor and pushes her up against the door. He takes a break from kissing her neck to lock it, and she laughs.

“You really think he’d just waltz in here?”

“You don’t?”

He thinks he’s making a valid point. Rebeka reaches for the hem of his shirt, then pulls the offending piece of clothing over his head and runs a hand down his chest. He tries to do the same, but she’s wearing dungarees, and he actually has no fucking clue how to get her out of them.

When he looks back up at her face, she’s laughing at him. “Need some help with that, big boy?”

Valerio nods sheepishly, then watches as she moves her fingers swiftly over the buttons on the thing and lets the jean material pool around her ankles. Fuck. He didn’t think about the fact that removing that one article of clothing would leave her mostly naked for him. He’s been wanting to touch her all day, especially because she’s wearing this really pretty purple bra that’s been peeking out from under her outfit.

She smiles a little, takes a deep breath. “So?”

He unbuckles his belt and steps out of his pants. That feels right because it leaves them equally exposed. There’s a hint of nervous excitement building in the back of his mind, the kind that comes with finally getting to do something you’ve been dying to.

“I think we can unpack all this later,” he tells her, gesturing to the bags full of stuff he already doesn’t remember picking out. Rebeka nods, then grabs him by the neck and kisses him, and he swears he sees stars.

She walks them towards the bed, not breaking the kiss once as she does, and he loves this, loves having her be in charge. It helps him not overthink whether or not he should be doing more, or less, or different things. When she’s on top of him, she sits back to grin at him, and he says her name on a breath. The look on her face must mean he’s about to have her rock his world. She pulls her bra off, then sits still for a minute to let him stare — god, he loves that she’s confident enough to just let him ogle her — and when he pulls her towards him again, he decides it’s time to stop letting her set the pace.

He turns them around and kisses her hard as his hands roam over her body, then kisses a path down her stomach and pulls her underwear off. She lets out the most pathetic whine he’s ever heard when he licks a stripe up her center, and he can’t help but be smug about that. Not so cool and collected now, is she?

When he takes a second too long to settle into a steady rhythm, she pulls on his curls hard enough to hurt and says, “Fuckin’ hurry up,” and really, he doesn’t need to be told twice.

They fight over who gets to be on top. He finally agrees to let her ride him — so generous of him, honestly — and flips them over halfway through so he can switch up the pace, makes her scream out his name over and over again.

He can tell they’re both on the brink of orgasmic bliss, and he’s noticed she clearly likes a little bit of pain, so he tugs on her hair, then pinches her breast between his fingers right as he thrusts deep into her, and that seems to do it for her. She squeezes his hip where she’s got a leg slung over him, then throws her head back and cries out, and he falls forward when he finally follows her over the edge.

Hands down up there for top five best sexual encounters of his life — that’s the first coherent thing he finds himself thinking when his breathing starts to calm down.

His head is resting on her collarbone, most of his weight is crushing her, and she’s just sort of holding him there, not letting him move. When he tilts his head so he can kiss her neck, she whines like she knows what’s coming, then whispers a faint, “No,” as he rolls off of her.

Rebeka turns onto her stomach and drapes her arms over his chest, smiling fondly when he intertwines their fingers. Cute.

There’s a faint wet spot on the mattress next to her and he laughs at himself, then hands her a tissue from his nightstand so she can get cleaned up. He can be so irresponsible when he’s in the zone.

“Do we need to talk about birth control?”

Rebeka rolls her eyes, then moves so she’s straddling him again.

“Do you actually think I’m stupid enough to have unprotected sex?”

No, he doesn’t. He just wanted to make sure.

They’re quiet for a moment, and then he chuckles. “Polo is definitely right outside the door listening.”

Rebeka leans forward so they’re completely pressed together, mutters, “Don’t fucking care,” and he pulls her closer.

***

The rest of the week passes way too quickly. They spend most of Thursday and Friday in bed, then go to a movie with Ander and Polo Friday night, and they’re back at her parents’ house on Saturday, just getting some pool time in.

He’s already annoyed about having to go back to work on Monday, though it’s nice to know Rebeka is only gonna be one floor away if he feels the need to take a break.

She laughs when he suggests that in a not so subtle way, then pulls her top back on. “I’m not gonna fuck you at the office.”

“You suck.”

“Sorry, I know it’s tough to make you wait until after we finish work to jump me.”

He puts an arm behind his head and watches her get dressed. It’s barely two in the afternoon, and it’s Sunday — there’s no reason for him to leave yet.

“You’re the worst.”

Rebeka nods, then sits down next to him — now fully clothed, unfair — and drums her fingers on his bare chest. “If you get dressed in the next five minutes, I’ll buy you lunch.”

He boxes her in against the kitchen counter when she walks over to grab a glass of water and after plenty of teasing from Polo this week, the snide remark Ander makes when he catches them making out is tame.

“I’m kind of excited to see Carla tomorrow,” Rebeka mentions at lunch.

He smiles at her and nods. The two of them got back to Madrid late last night, and he knows Samu got the ring because he texted him about how perfect it was, then mentioned Carla loved it, so he’s obviously the greatest assistant of all time.

“Do you think she’ll tell you how it went?”

She laughs. “No way. But he’ll definitely tell you.”

There’s a pretty good chance he will. Samuel isn’t good at keeping things to himself, especially when it’s things he’s proud of. Valerio has seen this first hand a lot when it comes to work stuff — it’s cute, honestly, how bad Samu is at admitting he’s good at things, even when he clearly wants to. When he tries to talk about his achievements, it’s usually just a sarcastic humble brag or an awkward self compliment that goes awry.

He slips his foot out of his shoe and runs it up the inside of her calf. “I better see you at lunch tomorrow.”

Rebeka laughs, then bites her lip when his foot moves higher, and he almost tells her he loves her right then and there when she says, “If my workload allows for a break,” like the most serious career woman he’s ever met. (Like he isn’t pushing his toes against her crotch over her shorts.)

She’s kind of amazing.

***

“And _then_ she dropped her book into the sea...”

Having breakfast and coffee ready for Samu today was a good call. He’s been ignoring any calls he’s gotten so far this morning and has instead spent a solid hour telling Valerio all about the trip to Norway. They’re still not friends, but it’s a fun conversation, and some of the stories are actually really cute. Valerio is stoked he gets to be privy to them, if only because it means he’ll be able to report back to Rebeka later.

Samu launches into a story about the creepy old bed and breakfast they stayed in on the coast, then tells him more about the sort of food they ate — apparently Carla spent a lot of time critiquing local wine lists and the lack of proper wine pairing. That makes Valerio laugh. Carla seems like a handful; sort of like Rebeka, actually. They do say people enjoy working with like-minded individuals — maybe they’re both a little more similar to their bosses than they’d like.

“So when’s the wedding?” Valerio jokes, taking a sip of his coffee.

Samu chuckles, turning to look at something on his phone, then taps the screen aggressively for a solid minute, like he’s channeling his emotions into hitting angry letter combinations. The smiles on his face is replaced by a frown.

Valerio can instantly tell the pleasant part of his morning is over; Samuel’s barely-there poker face is back. It’s barely there because he’s incredibly easy to read — Val’s got a feeling he knows what’s about to happen.

“By the way,” Samu says, avoiding his eyes. “I need you to block my Thursday afternoon. Get me a meeting with her.”

Valerio knows that tone of voice. He knows Samu only ever gets like this when—

“Get her some orchids, too. We have a lot to discuss.”

Oh shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... Really hoping to get ch5 up on time next Sunday, but work is crazy!


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing she says to Carla after her week-long trip is, “Is that an engagement ring?” because she spots the gold band on her finger as the blonde reaches for the coffee Rebe had ready for her. Even though she can never remember what the individual fingers symbolize in terms of ring placement, she knows men only buy rings for two reasons — to apologize for cheating and to lock shit down and get married.  
  
Both of those options seem a little odd, however.  
  
“Oh, shut up,” Carla says, glancing down at the ring. “It’s more of a promise ring.”  
  
Maybe laughter isn’t quite the reaction she should’ve gone for here, but dear fucking god, a promise ring? Are they twelve? She clears her throat and nods, trying to calm down. “Promising what, exactly?”  
  
“Nothing.” Carla rolls her eyes and looks around the way she usually does when she gets cornered into talking about her personal life, then says, “You know, he’s still technically married.”  
  
Is he actually? Valerio kept calling Samu’s mystery ex just that — an ex — so this is surprising. Maybe the paperwork isn’t finalized.  
  
“Besides. Do you really think I’d get married to a guy I barely know just because he’s dorky and makes me laugh?”  
  
Definitely not. (Was that an admission of feelings? Oh my god!) She shrugs at Carla and drops the subject. They’re not friends; she can’t just make her have a heart to heart about her boyfriend. It’s not like she’s planning on telling Carla how she spent _her_ week off.  
  
Rebeka catches her up on the emails she missed — the emails Rebe spent most of last night foraging through — and when they’re done it’s almost 11, so she texts Valerio about taking a quick coffee break. She’s kind of in the mood for a smoke, too.  
  
He does that weird thing she’s noticed last week again where he has no idea how to greet her, and she grabs him by the hand, then drags him out of the lobby and kisses him the second they’re outside.  
  
“There. Don’t make this fucking weird.”  
  
And no, they haven’t talked about what they _are_ but Rebeka isn’t fucking fourteen. She can handle the ambiguity that comes with dating someone new; she doesn’t need him to be her boyfriend right away. She can’t even remember the last time she had one of those.

Valerio looks distracted for a moment, then smiles at her again. He’s lucky he’s cute.

She lights a cigarette, prompts, “Tell me what Samu said,” and enjoys listening to the dramatic summary of the epic Norwegian adventure their bosses went on.

“Can’t make lunch today, we have a meeting with advertisers,” she tells him as she puts her cigarette out with her shoe. “But nice work. They’re totally in _looove_.”

He nods, causing his crazy curls to shake with the movement, and she chalks the way he ignores her remark up to excitement. Matchmaking’s really just all-around exciting.

***

“Can you check whether Samuel can move our dinner reservation to Thursday? Wednesday’s gonna be a long one.”

Because they’ve got these weird oenologists from Finland visiting, right. Chances are they’ll take them out for drinks on Wednesday. Rebeka knows Carla is eager to get their buy-in for a new column she wants to launch for the magazine — something about the science behind environmentally sustainable vineyards.

“I’ll speak to his assistant.”

That sounds hilarious to her own ears, if only because she’s now _sleeping_ with said assistant. She hides her grin by gulping down some coffee.

It’s barely even five, and Rebeka’s got about ten other things to check off her to-do list when Carla says, “Go home. It’s our first day back, we should ease into this.”

How’s that saying go — don’t look a gift horse in the mouth? She isn’t gonna fight her on that; she’ll just grab her stuff and go.  
  
On her way downstairs, she stops by the fourth floor and not-so-subtly looks into the office, checking whether she can spot Val hanging around. Maybe he’ll be up for a drink. (Maybe she’s looking for excuses to hang out with him.)  
  
When he sees her he grins, then motions to his laptop and holds up five fingers, which probably means he’ll meet her downstairs in five. Cool.

He’s cornered her in a booth at the shitty pub around the corner from the office when he asks, “Rough day at work?”

Not exactly rough, but Rebeka clearly felt something was off earlier, something she still can’t quite put her finger on. Taking a large gulp of her beer, she gives Valerio a look.

“You could’ve told me about the ring.”

He grins at her. “Yeah, but I wanted to hear about your freakout. Did you freak out?”

“Of course not.” She laughs, then punches him in the shoulder. “Carla called it a promise ring so I just burst out laughing.”

He kisses her then, just pulls on her arm until she’s flush against him and she whines into his mouth and turns the kiss dirty. They’re in public but it’s not like they know anyone here. It’s fine.

The fact that he’s totally only touching her to distract her from the topic at hand isn’t lost on her.

“Let’s go back to mine,” Val says between kisses and she wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand.

“I kind of promised Ander we’d watch a movie tonight.”

Valerio skates his fingers down her arm. “Just tell him to hang out with Polo.”

He's got the right idea. They might as well take advantage of the fact that their roommates seem to have taken a liking to each other. When they get to Valerio’s place, he tells Polo Ander is waiting for him with movie snacks and drinks, and Polo instantly takes off for the door, no questions asked.  
  
(She doesn’t feel bad about not telling Ander she’s sending someone else in her place. He’ll probably be thrilled with this change in plans anyway.)  
  
It’s almost midnight when she sits up in bed and nudges Valerio with her chin.  
  
“Not to mix business and pleasure,” she stops in her tracks when Valerio leans over to kiss her neck. “But we need to move Carla and Samu’s dinner plans to Thursday.”  
  
Val bites down on her collarbone — there’s another kink she didn’t know she had — and she almost misses the way he says, “Thursday won’t work,” because he instantly pulls her into his lap to kiss her after.  
  
“What’s he doing Thursday?”  
  
“Don’t be nosy.”  
  
She hits him in the chest and glares, then waits for him to speak again.  
  
“Some work thing, probably.”  
  
He leans in to kiss her again and, fine, okay. Maybe this conversation can wait until tomorrow. It’s late anyway.  
  
***  
  
They end up moving dinner to Friday, and in order to keep Carla placated, Rebe figures it’s time for an impromptu flower delivery _from_ Samuel. Not because Carla needs placating, it’s just a nice thing to do for her, and if she brings it up with Samuel, he’ll probably just assume Valerio is responsible and thank him.  
  
Rebe likes seeing Carla happy — she sees no reason to not get her flowers and make her smile today. Maybe that makes her sappy, but really, Carla works incredibly hard; she deserves good things in life.  
  
She knows Val is in a meeting all morning, and Carla is busy showing their Finnish guests around the office, so the timing is ideal for Rebeka to sneak out to the flower shop.  
  
The nice florist from their last few visits smiles at her when she walks in.  
  
“No Valerio today?”  
  
She shakes her head. “Just me.”  
  
“Hey, can you tell him his order is ready for pickup? I know we said Thursday morning but he can pick them up tonight if he’d like.”  
  
That’s a little odd. Rebeka can’t remember them having plans for any further flower gifting this week. She nods but she’s confused, too.  
  
“What did he order?”  
  
The woman glances at her, grins and not-so discreetly waves her over so she can show her the beautiful bound bouquet of orchids. Sort of an odd choice — Carla is definitely not an orchid kind of girl, and she’s pretty sure Valerio isn’t stupid enough to let Samu pick what sort of flowers to get her.  
  
“Interesting flower choice,” Rebeka remarks.  
  
“His boss always makes him get them. Probably for his wife or something.”  
  
His wife. Right… Rebeka must look caught off guard, because the florist shrugs and says, “Hey, I don’t ask questions that could get people in trouble.”  
  
She leaves with her flowers and without a card because they’re probably past the card writing stage of initial courtship. She’s so confused, she isn’t even really in the mood for this whole flower operation anymore.  
  
Really, Rebeka isn’t easily freaked out. She’s not a big fan of overthinking things, even though she does it frequently, and she definitely doesn’t have any sort of general distrust towards the men in her life. Some men are dicks, but she knows enough that aren’t. Her base trust is fine.  
  
Valerio seems like a pretty cool guy. She has no reason to doubt him, but then there’s this gut feeling she can’t quite put her finger on — he’s been acting off. And sure, she’s only known him for two months; she’s probably imagining things. Maybe she’s telling herself she knows him well when she really doesn’t.  
  
Call it morbid curiosity. If he’s keeping something from her, she wants to know. They’re barely even dating — if he ends up being a total asshole, she’d rather know now.  
  
God, he better not be hiding anything.  
  
She texts him a picture of the flowers on Carla’s desk, tells him the florist mentioned his order is ready, and when she sees the vase of orchids on Samuel’s desk at the end of the day as she spies on Valerio on her way down for drinks with the weird Finnish crew, she has no idea what to make of any of this.  
  
Ander asks how her new boyfriend is doing that night when she gets home drunk and she flips him off before she does something stupid, like confide in him about how she’s pretty sure Valerio is being shady as fuck.  
  
***  
  
On Thursday, Rebe meets Valerio for lunch and grins at him when he suggests McDonald's — she kind of had a junk food craving too.  
  
They chat effortlessly for at least thirty minutes, as she tells him about her night out with Carla and the insane Finnish people, and really, if he was lying to her or hiding something, there’s no way he’d be this good at it, right? She’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the right mindset for lying. He’s an open book — there’s a reason she can always tell when he’s nervous or being weird.  
  
“How’s your day been?” She finally asks when she’s moved on to dessert, her KitKat McFlurry melted just the right amount.  
  
Val shrugs. “Samu’s been in meetings so I’ve just been playing email concierge.”  
  
Rebe holds a spoonful of ice cream up to his face and laughs when he goes for it without hesitation. He totally claimed he didn’t want dessert a few minutes ago but she knew he was bluffing.  
  
“This is gonna sound rude, but what does Samuel actually _do_ all day?”  
  
What? It’s a valid question. How much football news can there possibly be to cover every day between games?  
  
Valerio replies, “You know, stuff,” and she really doesn’t even know what that means, but it’s fucking hilarious, so she laughs louder than she has in days. He joins her, and before she knows it random strangers sitting at McDonald's are glaring at them as if having fun is fucking illegal.  
  
This is as good a time as any to cut the bullshit.  
  
“What were the flowers for?”  
  
Valerio shrugs. “Samu likes them, he says they make the office feel more vibrant.”  
  
Big fat fucking liar. There’s no way in hell Samuel is into orchids; none. She’s pretty sure virtually nobody is into orchids, actually. The smell is too intense for most people to stand.  
  
She doesn’t know why she doesn’t just ask him what the fuck is going on. But something definitely is, so she kisses him goodbye outside of the office building and says, “I have some errands to run,” so she can go buy herself an iced coffee and figure this out.  
  
**  
  
Getting that iced latte? Smartest decision she’s ever made.  
  
When she walks into Starbucks, she smiles at Diego, her favorite barista, in the back and nods when he points to a plastic cup before she’s even paid for it at the till. There’s a bunch of people in line in front of her, so it’ll be nice to have her drink waiting for her right after she ordered it.  
  
Rebeka isn’t even really paying attention to her surroundings until she’s standing at the back counter, watching Diego make all kinds of coffee concoctions, and hears a familiar voice behind her.  
  
There’s a large plant separating this area of the coffee shop from the seats right around the corner, and she peaks through the plant like she’s in a bad spy movie, then legitimately almost gasps when she puts a face to the voice.  
  
Why the fuck is Samuel sitting at a Starbucks in the middle of the day? He isn’t alone, either. She can’t quite make out what he’s saying from over here, but he’s smiling at the redhead sitting in the love seat next to him, and the pretty woman is holding the incriminating bouquet of orchids, and holy fucking shit, did Rebeka crack the case?

She watches as Samu runs a finger down the woman’s arm and takes her hand in his, and then they’re both leaning in and...  
  
“Rebeka,” a male voice says, tapping her on the shoulder. She whips her head around and laughs when she comes face to face with Diego, who’s holding her drink. “Are you spying on my customers?”  
  
She shakes her head, takes the drink from him and sighs. “Just thought I saw someone I know.”  
  
When she glances back at Samu and his mystery coffee date on her way out the door, she can’t help but wonder where the fuck she’s seen the girl before.

***

In the end, it’s not too difficult to figure out. On the short walk back to the office, she goes through Samuel’s social media accounts again and it takes her less than five minutes to find an old vacation picture featuring none other than the redhead from the coffee shop and the caption reads ‘vacay with the wifey’ so... the woman she saw him with must be his ex-wife.

His wife. The ex aspect is clearly up for debate.

All she can tell from Marina Nunier’s Instagram is that she’s pretty in an understated way, likes ballet, and has a couple of cats. Really, she seems like a cool person.  
  
It’s safe to assume, basically, that Samuel is seeing his ex again. Judging by Valerio’s incredibly inefficient lies, it’s safe to assume he knows it’s going on, too.  
  
There are levels to this.  
  
Obviously, Rebeka knows that he’s probably got some kind of base loyalty towards his boss, if only because the guy pays him. She gets that. As an assistant, you’re privy to certain things and it comes with the territory to keep some level of confidentiality. She just kind of didn’t think he’d be professional enough to keep things from her, especially considering the matchmaking scheme they’re involved in.  
  
And while she gets it, she’s also fucking pissed. Since she now knows his boss isn’t at the office, she storms up the stairs to the fourth floor and barges past the confused looking office manager. The guy clears his throat so she stops in her tracks and rolls her eyes.  
  
“Valerio is around, right?”  
  
She’s already seen him through the glass walls; she’s just trying to be polite enough to not get kicked out.  
  
Is everyone who works here fucking weird? The dude sitting at the makeshift front desk near the door nods as he side-eyes her, snaps his gum and points towards Samuel’s office in the back like he thinks she can’t be trusted or something.

“Hey liar,” Rebe greets when she walks into the room, and Valerio takes his headphones off and looks up at her.

“What’s up,” he says, turning around in his chair. He clearly didn’t hear her greeting, but he looks wary, so the angry look on her face must be obvious. “Is everything okay?”

It takes her a second to decide how to play this, and then she’s sitting down in Samuel’s chair, spinning around to face Valerio. He looks a little scared, maybe a tad guilty too, and she’s almost glad. Once she gets the yelling out of her system, she’s sure she’ll feel better and then they can put all this behind them.

But first she’ll give him one last chance to just come clean.

“Where’s Samuel?”

Valerio shrugs, and it doesn’t look like he’ll give her any further explanation, so she wheels the chair she’s sitting in closer to him and glares in his general direction.

“Were you just never gonna tell me he’s still seeing his wife?”

He looks caught off guard, then sighs and shakes his head. “It’s none of my business. It’s definitely none of yours.”

Bull-fucking-shit. “Right, because setting them up in the first place was our business.”

“Look, I wanted to tell you, but I wasn’t sure.”

“You weren’t sure? What is there to be sure about? You don’t meet your ex for coffee and hold her hand and get her flowers if you’re not at least thinking about taking her back.”

That seems to get his attention, finally.

“You saw them together?”

She nods, then laughs at the mental picture. “Fucking idiot took her to Starbucks of all places. Very romantic...”

“I kind of thought they were just talking about paperwork.”

Oh, bless his heart. How adorable of him to think that. It’s almost cute how naive and oblivious he can be when he wants to be.

“Valerio,” she struggles not to smile. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but men don’t get women flowers if they don’t want to sleep with them.”

He grabs onto the armrest of the chair she’s sitting in and pulls her closer, then lets out a very unconvincing maniacal laugh and says, “Maybe I should get you flowers,” and really... He’s just too much of a dumbass to stay mad at. He cracks that stupid grin of his, gives her a look that she’s pretty sure is meant to be charming, and she rolls her eyes as she lets him drag her forward by the arm and into his lap.

When she looks up, she sees the weird office manager dude from earlier watching them from his spot near the office entrance, and she raises her hand so she can flip him off. See, this is why these modern glass offices are weird — no privacy.

“Whoever is manning your front desk is not great at first impressions,” she tells Valerio, pulling back to look at him. “He’s totally watching us right now.”

Val chuckles, then pecks her lips and shoos her off his lap until she’s back in the chair across from him.

“So what are we gonna do about the wife thing?”

The wife thing... That’s an oversimplification if Rebeka has ever heard one.

“ _We_ aren’t doing anything. I’m gonna talk to Carla, probably.”

Shit, that conversation is going to suck. There’s no way Carla will appreciate having Rebeka stick her head where it doesn’t belong.

“She’ll be fine, she doesn’t strike me as particularly emotional.”

Rebeka nods, then grabs his hand and squeezes it hard.

“How did you do that? I was so excited to yell at you.” Val grins at her and it’s all the answer she needs — it’s definitely that stupid grin. “This was lame.”

“You can yell at me later, maybe when we’re both a little more naked.”

That sounds tempting. She rolls her eyes and nods, then pushes him away when he tries to get her to move closer again.

“Don’t. Let me channel my inner angry girlfriend for a little while longer.”

Before she can overthink her little slip-up and worry about referring to herself as his girlfriend, he’s gotten up and extended a hand to her, grinning when she takes it and lets him drag her up.

“Milady,” he says, letting go of her hand and motioning to the door.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

She can still hear his ringing laughter after she closes the door behind herself.

***

God, this is fucking weird. Carla is at her desk, scrolling through first drafts of articles for the next print issue, and really, the weirdness is completely in Rebeka’s head. The comfortable silence feels odd to her now that she’s struggling to find a way to break the news to Carla.

“By the way,” she starts, then loses her cool when Carla looks up at her with an amused smile on her face. Is she that easy to read? There’s a depressing thought. “You shouldn’t see Samuel anymore.”

Carla’s eyebrows shoot up, but that’s the only indication to show she’s caught off guard by Rebeka’s unprompted remark. Shit, why is this so difficult?

“I beg your pardon?”

“He’s still seeing his wife.”

Carla rolls her eyes and crosses her arms in front of her chest, all diplomatic-politician-like. “You think I don’t know that?”

Wait... what? That possibility hasn’t even occurred to Rebeka. She kind of assumed Carla would be mildly shocked to find out at least.

“And you’re just okay with that?”

“Well, he did tell me,” Carla says, shrugging. “It’s not like I’m not still sleeping with my chiropractor, so.”

Holy shit. Rebeka mentally kicks herself for underestimating her badass, no-nonsense boss. Of course she’s been on top of things all along. Is there anything Carla _can’t_ do?

“So the ring...”

“… Was just a gift. I like pretty things, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Carla goes back to her emails, and Rebeka tries and fails to focus on finalizing the travel arrangements for Carla’s visit to this weird progressive vineyard in Finland next month. How did she not think Carla might know? Her boss is crazy observant at all times; it makes sense she would’ve known about this, too.  
  
She’s almost forgotten about how foolish she feels about how that whole thing played out when Carla turns around to face her again.

“How’s your boyfriend anyway?” 

Rebeka stares at her for a second before she says, “Excuse me?”

“You know, Samuel’s lackey. I saw you together at the football game.”

Once again, Rebeka finds herself in complete awe of Carla. She looks away from her for a moment to gather her bearings, then cracks a grin when she finds Carla smiling at her.  
  
“You really didn’t think I knew?”  
  
Yeah, right, in hindsight that seems a little stupid now. God, Rebeka hates getting things wrong. It’s not like her, and she definitely hates the stupid, smug look on Carla’s face.

The fact that Carla probably has no idea her chance run-in with Samuel that started all this was completely staged makes her feel slightly less stupid. She’ll keep that information to herself for now.

It’s time to get over the weirdness of all of this and move on. There’s just one last question she has before she can do that.  
  
“Why did you go on vacation with someone you don’t even like?”  
  
“I _do_ like him. Why does everything have to be serious all the time?”  
  
Rebeka doesn’t have a good answer for that, so she nods and goes back to doing her actual job.  
  
(But oh my god, are they friends now? Does this make them chums?)  
  
***

It takes her a day or so to recover from the random turn of events their matchmaking efforts took.  
  
On Friday, Rebeka impulse buys tickets to some musical she has no interest in seeing, just to get out of the house this weekend. That, and it gives her an excuse to see Valerio, so… a no brainer, really.  
  
“What do you mean you don’t know what West Side Story is about?”

He’s watching her put her hair up in a tight bun from his spot on her bed, and it’s unfair how he can look this good when he puts absolutely zero effort into his looks. His hair is a fucking mess, but it looks like an intentional mess, and she’s definitely jealous of that chaotic energy. If only she could get away with never brushing her hair.

“Dunno, is it, like, popular? I just went by least boring name. Wicked was sold out.”

Valerio scoffs, and really, him being into musical theater is a hilarious plot twist. Who would’ve thought?

“Lu used to make me run lines with her back when she was doing all these school musicals.”

“So what you’re saying is she was Sharpay and you’re Ryan? I always thought he was gay.”

“What I’m saying is I can’t believe I’m dating someone who doesn’t even know the epic love story that is Tony and Maria.”

Cute. She loves when he gets unexpectedly adamant about things. It’s nice to know she isn’t the only one in this relationship with random niche interests.

During intermission, Rebeka grabs a handful of Valerio’s curls and sighs. “Why does all this remind me of the shitty matchmaking job we did?”

Val giggles and turns to her. “Tony killing Bernardo reminds you of our bosses agreeing to have an open relationship?”

“I don’t know, maybe if we had let it escalate,” she muses, rolling her eyes when he shoots her a dubious look. Okay, so maybe the plot of West Side Story has nothing to do with Carla and Samuel. Maybe she’s just still thinking about how fucking weird Thursday was.

“At least no one got hurt,” Valerio says, taking a sip of his wine and frowning at the taste. Fucking snob. “Right?”

“I guess as long as his wife knows...”

“Marina is all-knowing. She’s into tarot cards and shit.”

A sound is played to signal the imminent end of intermission and Rebe leans over to kiss Valerio, just because. She likes having him around, even if he’s kind of the most annoying person she knows.

“I wonder who else is dying in act two.”

“Well...”

Rebe shushes him. “No fucking spoilers, moron!”

His laughter echoes in the mostly quiet theater buzzing with anticipation for the next act, and it earns them more than a few angry looks from fellow musical goers. She reaches for his hand and sighs.

There’s a smile on his face and his hand is warm in hers.

***

“This is the worst idea we’ve ever had.”  
  
Which is saying a lot, because there have been quite a few of those in the past few weeks and months.  
  
Valerio nudges her shoulder with his chin, then says, “It was your idea,” and fine, maybe Rebeka just enjoys watching the world burn sometimes. Right now she’s in a cute summer dress, watching as more and more guests trickle in for the five-year anniversary party Samuel and Co. are having for their website. They rented out a cool rooftop venue, and it’s a late August night, making the air crisp enough for Rebeka to feel buzzed from the drop in temperature alone.

Valerio invited her and Polo, who brought Ander, and they may have invited Carla as well. You know, in Samuel’s name — it was the right thing to do, and chances are he would’ve done it anyway.  
  
Of course, Carla was one of the first people to arrive, elegantly dressed down to fit the casual beach theme of the event, and for the past twenty minutes, they’ve been watching her make small talk with none other than Samuel’s wife.  
  
“God, why can I not look away,” Rebe says, squeezing Valerio’s biceps. “It’s just fucking fascinating to witness.”  
  
“Wanna make a bet?”  
  
“Only if you wanna lose.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, too. “I say they’re gonna be friends.”

“That’s a fucking lame bet, I was expecting higher stakes.”

“What, you don’t think it’s funny how the two women he’s sleeping with might gang up on him?”

Across the rooftop, Marina holds onto Carla’s forearm as she tells what looks like an elaborate story, and Rebeka knows her boss well enough to be able to tell that the laugh she lets out in response is real, not fake. For some reason the two of them seem incredibly friendly, almost as if they met before.

Rebeka turns her eyes to the other side of Valerio, where Ander and Polo have their heads stuck together like they’re up to something, glancing around in order to appear inconspicuous.

“I bet you a hundred euros Polo and Ander are gonna do something stupid like get caught fucking behind the fake palm trees tonight.”

“You call that a bet? That’s just an inevitability...”

He’s got a point there. God, she can’t take Ander anywhere without having him flaunt his nympho tendencies. It’s kind of endearing to see him stick with Polo, though — neither of the boys has been forward about admitting it, but Rebeka spends enough time around them both these days to know they’re basically exclusive now.

“I’m gonna go say hi to Samu,” Val says, glancing at her. “Do you wanna come with?”

Instead of replying, Rebeka cocks her brow at him and grins. She definitely doesn’t. She’s sure Samuel isn’t actually a bad person, but the few run-ins they’ve had have either been awkward or dominated by his utter lack of charm, so she’ll pass.

The second Valerio leaves her side, Ander and Polo step closer, each putting an arm around her.

“Look how dreamy he is,” Polo jokes as he watches Val walk off. “Maybe you two should just get married already.”

Rebeka turns her head to check whether he’s serious, then lets out a laugh. “Are you drunk already?”

“Drunk on love, maybe,” he replies, and she nudges Ander to get his reaction to all this.

Ander’s hand sneaks around her waist to squeeze her hip, and then he says, “Polo wants to move in and thinks we should just do an apartment swap.”

So that’s what they were scheming about earlier. Makes sense.

“Wow, are you trying to get rid of me? That hurts, Ander.”

“Just think about the upside: you’ll never have to listen to me have loud sex again.”

Rebeka laughs. “I’m sure you’ll still find a way.”

And no, she isn’t going to give them any sort of definite answer on moving — she doesn’t really care, but she should probably consult her boyfriend of less than three months before she makes that sort of decision for him.

“We’ll FaceTime you during,” Polo promises, grinning smugly. “If you ever start missing it.”

Fucking idiots, all of them. She cracks up at the thought of actually getting that kind of call, then groans when she realizes Ander and Polo totally _would_ do that sort of thing, too.

“I’m getting a drink, you’re impossible to handle sober.”

At the bar, she quite literally bumps into Marina, and the woman smiles at her as she puts a hand on Rebeka’s arm to steady herself. The redhead is unfairly gorgeous up close, and not for the first time, Rebeka finds herself thinking Samuel is one of the luckiest bastards in the universe. How do women that look like literal supermodels keep going for him?

“Sorry,” Marina says, a smile on her lips. Rebe doesn’t know why she’s smiling back at her. “Hey, do I know you?”

Rebeka shakes her head and grabs the cocktail she ordered. “I doubt it.”

“You’re Valerio’s girl, right? He showed me a few pictures when I wouldn’t stop bothering him the other day.”

That’s a little random, but fine, she’ll bite.

“That’s me,” Rebeka says awkwardly. “Sorry, who are you?”

There’s a fond smile on Marina’s lips when she says, “I’m the idiot who decided to put up with Samuel’s nonsense.”

“Ah, you’re the wife.”

Rebeka is pretty sure she isn’t imagining the little twinkle in her eye at the mention of that word.

“Something like that,” Marina agrees, then tells her it was nice meeting her and joins Carla and Samuel over at the photo booth. They take a few pictures with props, all grinning, and Rebe once again finds herself wondering how they’re possibly being so comfortable around each other.

Everyone around her has lost it, she’s pretty sure, and yet this is somehow the most at ease Rebeka has felt in months, hell, maybe even years. Matchmaking didn’t quite work out the way she planned, but it did get her some much needed time off, and a hot new boyfriend on top of that. That, and Carla seems happy, even if Rebe still doesn’t fully understand how the whole thing she’s got going on with Samuel works.

Things don’t always need to make sense in order to feel right; Rebeka’s pretty much resigned to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me on this one, I can't believe five chapters have gone by so fast! Rom-com vibes for the win, amirite?

**Author's Note:**

> find me [on tumblr](http://cupcakeb.tumblr.com/)


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